


i know what it looks like from the outside

by Syster



Series: Boy Problems [1]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Jackson Wang, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining while fucking, The Porn Is the Plot, Top Park Jinyoung (GOT7)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:35:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 35,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27759247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syster/pseuds/Syster
Summary: “Jackson’s getting a tutor.” Youngjae helpfully supplies.“In sex.” Jackson supplements, “Gay sex.” He adds, for clarity.--what if Jackson, linguistics student and newly-hatched bisexual, needed some help in learning the art of love-making? enter Jinyoung, who definitely Fucks.
Relationships: Park Jinyoung/Jackson Wang
Series: Boy Problems [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2075562
Comments: 170
Kudos: 279





	1. The one in which Jackson accepts his shortcomings and asks for help.

**Author's Note:**

> all pairings are, obviously, fictional. title is from CRJ's boy problems.
> 
> this is unbeta'd. i know i know, just take comfort in that it hurts me more than it hurts you.

Jackson is Not Having A Good Day. The reasons for this can be numerous, including, but not limited to; his awful part-time job at a café which he tries to stay positive about, the stress of maybe losing his _great_ part-time job being a fencing coach for kids because fencing just doesn’t pay, the looming threat of graduation nearing and finishing master-thesis, the _jubilation_ of graduation nearing and absolute terror of an uncertain future imminent -

Anyway. Jackson is a complex, multi-dimensional man, and as such, there can be many conflicting reasons for him having a bad day. His friends, who love and support him, know this. His friends, who love and support him and most importantly, _know_ him, also know that the reason isn’t really all that complex.

“Are you still sulking about that guy?” Bambam asks, somehow managing to look expensive despite having the salary of a struggling artist. He adjusts the strap of his watch, which seems to be a real Rolex, over the horrendously obvious fake Louis Vuitton jacket.

“I am not sulking,” Jackson answers, definitely sulking, crossing his arms over his chest, “I’m _contemplating_.”

“Oh, hyung, it will all work out.” Yugyeom says, smiling sweetly, “I’m sure one day you’ll find a guy to fuck you right.”

“You’re like twelve, don’t say things like that.” Jackson retorts, taking his role as the elder of the group in Mark’s absence very seriously when it suits him to do so, “And that’s not the _problem_.”

“Talk to us, Jackson-hyung.” Youngjae says, somehow managing to look just a level or two brighter than the rest of them, as though he is somehow over-saturated on the great LCD screen of life, “You always feel better after you talk about it.”

“Don’t encourage -” Bambam tries to interject because he’s a _traitor_ and a _Judas_. Jackson would usually reward such betrayal with silence, but since he actually _does_ want to talk about it, he instead settles for merely leaning forward, effectively cutting Bambam off before he can finish his traitorous sentence.

“The problem is -” he holds a hand in front of Bambams mouth and when Bambam tries to remove it, he just places his other hand there as well, “- the _problem_ is that I’m just bad at fucking guys.” He pauses, looking at the others expectantly and when they just stare at him blankly, he narrows his eyes. Yugyeom’s raises an eyebrow, uttering a soft,

“Oh, uh, _what?_ Surely _that_ can’t be true -”

“Tone it down, Gyeomi.” Jackson says, but does sigh deeply, removing his hands from Bambams mouth to place one hand elegantly against his forehead and the other against the table, a pose that only looks statuesque instead of stupid because he’s that handsome, “But yes, it’s true. I just think that I -” he makes a vague hand movement, “- lack something to make me successful at it.”

“You have to be good with girls though, right? I mean, we all knew Jasmine, and there is no way she would’ve stayed with you for a year if you were bad at sex.” Bambam leans forward, putting another cube of sugar into his coffee, the diamond of his pinky ring glinting off the light in the room setting off the very lack-luster, slightly green-shifting silver ring on his ring finger that is staining the skin underneath it.

“Oh, no, I’m _fantastic_ at straight sex, but that’s not what we’re talking about. Look, you were all there. I had my sexuality crisis, I got over it, and now I want to explore all these new possibilities, but I _can’t_ , because _apparently_ , I suck at having sex with men!” Jackson huffs and tries not to... well, he tries not to show how much it bothers him because he’s.. Look, he’s aware that it’s a bit stupid. He’s aware that he’s being dramatic, but also, _fuck_ , he _did_ the mortifying, awful part of figuring out his sexuality and now he can’t even have _fun_ with it? It’s fucking unfair, is what it is!

“Well, you did _just_ start having it, isn’t that kind of - it takes _training_ , right?” Yugyeom offers delicately, Not Looking at Bambam in a way that makes him carefully straddle the line where they are all kind of pretending he and Bambam aren’t fucking, because neither of them is ready to deal with how whatever going on between them are not just an elaborate bromance “Like, no one is just _good_ at sex, with men _or_ women.”

“Yeah, but this is _bad_.” Jackson exclaims, “I had a limp for three - _three -_ days after the last time, and he didn’t even call me back!” Jackson groans, running his hands through his honey-blonde hair, tugging at the ends of it, “And then the one before that _literally_ kicked me out in the middle of it, and then the one before _that -_ ” The one before that had tried to choke him, which like, sure, pretty hot, but not after the _first_ date. Jackson’s never done a lot of casual dating, having a tendency to fall hard, fast, and deeply in love, but he’s still pretty sure that choking is something you discuss first.

“Well, maybe you were just talented with girls, and with guys, you’re just not?” Youngjae interjects, humming softly and thoughtfully as he takes another sip of his tea, “Maybe you’re not a natural?”

Jackson pauses for a second. It’s harsh words, as expected from his nemesis, but they are also not _wrong_.. Like, there is a sense of truth to them, isn’t there? The thing is, Jackson’s not a natural at a lot of things. He’s moderately bright and decently social, but he’s always _sucked_ at things like school and right now he’s pursuing a master-thesis in Linguistics, and well, he’s able to do that because -

“I’m gonna have to get a tutor.” Jackson says, knocking the knuckle of his fingers against the table in a fashion that says _it’s decided_ , “Youngjae, you are cruel, but wise, and I thank you for it.”

Youngjae hums in an agreeing fashion while Yugyeom and Bambam just look at him.

“A... tutor?” Yugyeom says carefully, sharing a look with Bambam who looks decidedly _amused_ , “Uh, can’t you just like, Google it or -”

“I’m a _practical_ learner, Yugyeom, I always have been. There is only so much you can learn from textbooks or the internet, some things you just have to _learn by doing_ , and what better way to get this thing going than to get a tutor! I am a fantastic student!“

“This is the funniest thing I’ve heard in my entire life,” Bambam says, pursing his lips as he takes another long sip from his coffee, not even flinching that badly when Yugyeom hits his shoulder. Jackson continues, undeterred.

“But _who_? Do you think I should put out an ad -”

“Yes.” Bambam says in the same breath as Yugyeom says, “ _No_.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to do? I don’t really have the money to hire someone, and besides -”

“Park Jinyoung fucks.” Youngjae interjects, not even looking up from his cup as he takes another sip.

There is a pause and Jackson squints, processing the information, “Park Jinyoung _does_ fuck,” he mutters, slowly, thinking the words through.

Park Jinyoung is a _legend_. Or, well, a legend is perhaps a bit of a strong word, but like - almost. Handsome, suave, and smart as hell, Jinyoung has a bit of a reputation not only as the economics faculty’s youngest Ph.D. student but also as a man who - uh - _gets around._ And unlike Jackson’s fumbling attempts at casual sex, Jinyoung seems to be _great_ at it, according to the dazed testimonials of his satisfied customers.

“Park Jinyoung, huh,” Jackson mutters underneath his breath, going from looking contemplative to focused.

“Gaga, you need to get back to your shift, your manager is looking more murderous by the minute -” Mark says as he returns from his lengthy sojourn into the bathroom, and as he steps into their conversation he stops, looks around, blinks, and continues in a slightly suspicious tone, “... Did I miss something?”

“Jackson’s getting a tutor.” Youngjae helpfully supplies.

“In sex.” Jackson supplements, “Gay sex.” He adds, for clarity.

There is a moment of silence.

“I was gone for _five_ minutes, guys.” Mark groans, grimacing as he runs a hand through his hair, “ _Five_ minutes!”

“Yeah, sorry, hyung.” Yugyeom says, shrugging a bit apologetically, “It just kinda happened.”

“It’s very funny,” Bambam adds, not sounding sorry at all.

“This is in regards to my sexual _future_ , hyung, it is of utmost importance!” Jackson says, sounding determined, yet still stumbling over the last words, switching them into English rather than Korean, “Which means you’ll have to give me Park Jinyoung’s number.”

“... Jinyoung-ah? _Jackson_ no -” Mark says, exasperatedly, but in a way that suggests that he’s gonna fold, later, when Jackson asks again, “Look, let’s just talk about this -”

“Can’t, I need to get back to work.” Jackson interrupts, getting up from the sofa and grabbing the tray of dirty cups he put on the table while taking a break, “And it’s a great idea, so we don’t _need_ to talk about it anyway. Talk to you later, hyung, maknaes, and Youngjae.” Jackson darts forward to press a kiss to Mark’s cheek, who accepts it with an air of exasperated fondness and resignation, “Oh, right, I changed your order to decaf, the regular stuff isn’t good for your stomach.” Mark sputters something that sounds like a protest but Jackson quickly spins around before Mark can actually say anything.

Jackson quickly clears up a couple of other tables, ducking into the back of the house just after seeing Mark wordlessly reach across the table and firmly smack Bambam on the back of the head.

Jackson Wang is having a shitty day at the tail-end of a shitty month, but it’s finally looking up.

\--

In Mark’s defense he can be excused for believing that the entire situation is a bit stalkerish as he hands Jackson a piece of paper with a phone number written on it. But, honestly, Jackson doesn’t stalk people and as such, he won’t stalk Jinyoung. They study at the same university, with Jackson trying to finish his Master’s degree after having to bow out from professional fencing following a torn ACL and with Jinyoung taking his doctoral in... business? Maybe? Jackson isn’t sure. As he said, he’s not a stalker.

Okay, well, he’s enough of a stalker to know that Jinyoung lives in the same building as he does. It’s not rocket science to figure it out honestly. Their large, slightly soviet-like concrete apartment building is the only place that can truly accommodate people who are trying to make it in academia (and are thus poor) and aren’t interested in the student life so prevalent in the more dorm-like buildings a bit closer to the university. And, well, maybe Jackson has noticed Jinyoung. Just, like, once or twice.

Thrice. _Maybe_.

Okay fine, he’s noticed Jinyoung at least four times, because Jinyoung is very hot, and very unobtainable (because he’s very hot and also a well-credited Ph.D. student at 26), and has at least two types of lovely smiles, one of which is a slightly mean and sarcastic one and another which is so broad that it seems to split his face into adorable little crescents and wrinkles. Jackson wants to have the first _and_ second type of smile directed at him _while_ Jinyoung knows Jackson's name at least once before he dies.

He’s just never had a reason to talk to Jinyoung before, and while his current mission is... unorthodox, he does feel like it’s a pretty good starting point. Of... something. Of Jinyoung at least knowing Jackson’s name, if only to write it in a police report later. 

But the thing is that he _hasn’t_ contacted Jinyoung yet, because he’s a lot smoother than his friends give him credit for, and he _does_ realize that a random text message out of the blue is not the most fantastic introduction unless it’s a _really_ good text message. He’s working on it.

It is, perhaps, inevitable that before Jackson can wrangle his Korean into something that would not make the princely Park Jinyoung simply block his number at a glance, they run into each other. After all, they do live in the same building.

They run into each other in the elevator, which isn’t the worst place to run into someone that you’re trying to get to know. Jackson has made a lot of friends in elevators, thriving on being the only available entertainment for a couple of minutes, and as such, this shouldn’t be a problem. When Jackson barely squeezes into the elevator, panting as he does so, having sprinted from the front entrance, and sees that Park Jinyoung is his elevator buddy for the next couple of minutes, he blinks, twice, and then smiles. Jinyoung, who does not seem to believe that an elevator is a place to make friends, just stare at him.

Now, Jackson is not wild about how fate decided that a fitting day to arrange this meet-cute is right after one of his more grueling workouts. It's not one of the attractive 30-minute runs that give you a bit of a sheen and bright eyes either, but rather a punishing two-hour run-through where after which he’s mostly red, soaked in sweat, and honestly, about two steps away from crying. Not exactly the best way to project a fuckable and nubile aura, but hey, Jackson should be able to make this work. Right?

Luckily, shame for Jackson is a distant concept. He is not _shameless_ as some would like to call him, but he has a tendency to register eventual shame afterwards and not during, which makes whatever embarrassing thing he’s about to do _future_ Jackson’s problem. This is something that Jackson plans to use to his full advantage.

“Hi!” Jackson exclaims, running a hand through his hair that is still slightly sweaty and damp, breaking out the broadest smile he can muster, “Park Jinyoung, right?”

Jinyoung looks at him, slowly removing one of his airpods from the ear closest to Jackson, “Uh -” Jinyoung answers, sounding far more eloquent than such a sound should suggest, “Yes?”

“Oh, fantastic!” Jackson stretches out a hand before remembering that he did just leave the gym, and a sweaty handshake isn’t the most attractive thing you can put out there, and so he tightens his fingers into a fist and Jinyoung, warily, bumps it, “I’m Jackson.”

“Yes,” Jinyoung says, in a way that almost suggests that he knows that already, but Jackson _knows_ that can’t be true and so he just assumes that Jinyoung is a bit shy and doesn’t know what to say. Jackson, bravely, ventures on.

“We go to the same university,” Jackson continues, blowing an escaping lock of hair from his forehead, smiling a bit sheepishly when it just falls right back into his face. Jinyoung’s eyes track the movement, looking very handsome and very bewildered in equal measure.

“Ah, yes, we do.” Jinyoung agrees, his full lips twitching into a small smile, polite and distant, and Jackson resists the urge to grab at his heart because of it. The silence stretches between them for a second, the slightly creaky movement of the elevator accompanying their ride. Jinyoung clears his throat, “Can I... help you with something?”

“God, yes, you _really_ can.” The words burst out of Jackson before he can really stop them, and as the elevator _dings_ as it arrives at Jinyoung’s floor ( _not_ Jackson’s), Jackson follows him out the elevator, “I need help.”

Jinyoung gives him a bit of a look as Jackson gets off the ride with him and raises an eyebrow, clearly waiting for him to continue. When Jackson doesn’t immediately start talking, he crosses his arms over his chest and adopts an air that so _clearly_ means _go on then, don’t make me wait_ , that Jackson just decides to like... go for it.

“Look, this is going to sound insane, and I was planning to go about this more smoothly but hey, I’m here, you’re here, and Korean isn’t my first language, it’s... my fourth? I think? Cantonese, English, Mandarin, Shanghainese... No wait, fifth. So composing a text message hasn’t really been going well, and I’ve always believed in grasping any opportunity that comes your way, you know? Fortune favors the bold, and all that.”

“Jackson-ssi, please, ” Jinyoung interrupts, voice crisp, and Jackson waves his hands, laughs nervously and continues.

“Right, right, sorry. Okay. Look. I... ” Jackson takes a deep breath, widens his eyes a bit, makes himself look as non-threatening as possible, “I need you to teach me how to fuck guys.”

This silence, unlike the one in the elevator, is honestly just _straight_ out awkward. Jackson smiles, his lips tightly pressed together, and Jinyoung just stares at him, blinking.

“You need me too... teach you how to -” Jinyoung blinks again, staring off into nothing for a second before looking back at Jackson, “- fuck guys?”

“Yeah. Or, well, be fucked by guys, anyway really, I’m not sure how to term it less awkwardly. As I said, Korean isn’t my first language.”

“I’m... pretty sure this would be an awkward conversation to have in any language.”

“Oh, man, don’t say that, you haven’t even _heard_ me talk Cantonese.” Jackson laughs, a bright peal of laughter that only _slightly_ turns into his nasally hyena laughter, “But honestly, I need help. I’m not good at it, I’m _floundering_ , lost at sea, no land in sight, and look, from what I’ve heard, you’re like... really good at it.” Jackson rubs a hand over the back of his neck, “I know I’m not, like, a top-tier twink, I get that, but I like to believe that I have my own charm. And hey, what’s a favor between friends, huh?”

“We met five minutes ago,” Jinyoung answers, but if Jackson manages to venture a guess, he seems more amused than like... creeped out.

“And what a five minutes it has been.” Jackson grins, slipping into dramatics like someone would slip into a comfortable pair of loafers, “We’ve both survived this awkward as hell conversation, and that can honestly only be called a bonding experience, can’t it?”

At that, Jinyoung actually laughs, his posture relaxing slightly as he brings a hand up to cover the upturn of his mouth. Jackson feels something inside of him ease a bit at the sound of laughter. It’s always been soothing to him, the sound of other people’s joy, and Jinyoung has a really nice laugh, one that sounds a bit like it’s unintentional.

“Yeah, sure.” Jinyoung chuckles, lowering his hand, his smile still playing in the corner of his lips. Then he hums, as though thinking something to himself, and then - well - _then_ -

He checks Jackson out. _Blatantly_. His dark gaze flicks up and down the shape of Jackson’s body. Jackson feels himself shiver under the gaze and flushes slightly as he catches Jinyoung’s eyes as they come back to his face. Jinyoung tilts his head, gives another hum, and then shrugs.

“Sure. Why not,” he shakes his head, chuckling at something Jackson isn’t privy to, but _hey,_ Jackson’s not gonna complain when he just got the thing he wanted. Don’t look a gifted horse in the mouth and all that, “I’m between fuck-buddies anyway.”

Oh. _Oh_. That’s certainly... something. The word sounds so _crude_ coming from Jinyoung, who manages to look both princely and expensive in a pair of sensible chinos. His tongue curls around the syllables, carrying the suggestion of whatever dialect Jinyoung must have had before he trained it away to adopt the more accepted Seoul-accent. A weird thing to notice, maybe, but Jackson’s a linguist-in-training, languages and dialects are like... his _thing_ , alright?

“Fantastic!” Jackson says, clapping his hands together, sounding a bit like a used car salesman closing a deal, “I am really thankful, you know, I really -” he looks down at his watch, balking at how he’s like two minutes away from having to go to his evening-class without showering first, “ _Shit_. Oh, sorry, I mean - uh, I’m late, I have to -” Jackson goes for a hug, instinctively, and while he does remember himself enough to kind of not do the full-body squeeze that he favors, it’s definitely at least _half_ a hug. Jinyoung is _solid_ underneath that blazer, which takes Jackson back a bit. He completely misses Jinyoung’s surprisingly awkward attempt to return the hug, because Jackson moves quick, and before Jinyoung can pat his back, Jackson has already stepped away.

“I’ll text you, we’ll decide a time and place!”

“You have my number?” Jinyoung sounds a bit baffled and Jackson just, well, ignores that, and laughs brightly, the elevator doors dinging open saving him from having to do any more explaining. Or well, having to do any more explaining right _now_.

“Talk to you later, Jinyoung-sunbaenim!” Jackson leans against the back of the elevator, grinning as he raises a hand in goodbye.

“Jackson -” Jinyoung starts, sounding baffled but also - there is a smile there, cradled in the warmth of his voice.

“That’s my name,” Jackson winks, tilting his head in a cocky backwards nod, “Don’t wear it out.”

The last thing Jackson hears is Jinyoung’s delightfully weird little chuckle before the elevator doors click shut.

\--

(18:56) hey, it’s Jackson

_(19:01) Hello. It’s Jinyoung._

(19:02) shit sorry i should explain how i got the number look it’s not creepy or anything i was just planning to talk to you so i asked mark tuan for your number and he gave it to me

_(19:03) Yes, I’m aware. Mark-hyung told me. It’s okay. A bit weird, maybe, but it’s not the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me, and Mark-hyung told me you’re... just like this, apparently._

(19:04) it’s okay if it’s not okay you know just don’t like kill me or anything

_(19:04) I told you, it’s alright._

(19.10) oh haha i get it i asked mark and he said you just text like a boomer so at least you’re probably not planning my demise despite your use of Capitalization and Full Stop

_(19:11) ... I do not text like a boomer._

(19:11) boomers text like you?

(19:11) it’s cute in a boomer-stuck-in-the-body-of-a-dilf kind of way

_(19:12) Happy to be of service?_

(19:13) god bless i just wanna squish your cheeks

(19:15) so how about saturday?

_(19:15) For what?_

(19:15) fucking

_(19:16) Jackson-ssi._

(19:17) horizontal tango? intercourse? nooky? coitus?

_(19:17) I thought you said Korean wasn’t your first language._

(19:18) it’s essential knowledge. just wait until you hear all the synonyms i know for cock.

(19:22) too crude?

_(19:23) It’s fine. Saturday works. Come by at 8._

(19:23) will do :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've binge-watched a lot of k-drama over the quarantine and i thought it'd be cute to do a k-drama like premise. getting a sex tutor is, admittedly, perhaps a bit racier than would usually be streamed at Viki but like the spirit is there.
> 
> english is my third language, or fourth depending on how you count, so please excuse any residual weirdness.
> 
> next chapter we start to earn the explicit rating. i should have it up in about two days, and after that i should be able to update about once or twice a week until we're finished.
> 
> i like to imagine this set in seoul in the same way the ace attorney games are set in new york, where the connection to the actual place is at most circumstantial.
> 
> please kudos and comment! getting comments is fantastic, and it helps the ol' motivation, so if you can find it in you to write a sentence or two, i'd really appreciate it. you can just tell me how much you've enjoyed jackson's look this comeback, bc christ, it's so coy and dandy, isn't it? proper wilde-theme, i'd say.
> 
> til next time.


	2. Jackson gets his Groove back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson makes a list, thinks about philosophers and the weight of past sins, and sucks a really nice dick.
> 
> All in all, a pretty good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> filth starts here
> 
> unbeta'd, and that's a secret that stays between you, me and god.

It’s Saturday and Jackson is finishing up his shift at the café. Now, the job is not all he has, even if it might seem that way to the uninitiated, but he is a struggling university-student in Seoul which basically means that his monthly costs are about a third above what he can feasibly make during a month. He needs all the shifts, extra shifts, and tips he can get.

Besides, it’s a lot easier to get his friends to come by for a visit to the café rather than at the fencing place. They are all draped across the set of sofas and armchairs that they have basically claimed as their own. Bambam and Yugyeom are sitting on opposite sides of the table, not really looking at each other while having their entire bodies turned towards the other, which means they had some kind of gay close-call last night. Youngjae has his computer in his lap, probably working on his music or playing upkeep to his enormous net of blackmail information. Mark is, as per usual, in the bathroom again. Mark’s stomach is pretty famous at this point, and Jackson definitely doesn’t tell him about the friendly but oddly competitive betting pool about what the record length of a bathroom break will be by the end of the year.

Jackson’s pretty sure that he’s going to win.

“What’s the etiquette for these things?” Jackson sighs, flopping down into the sofa and throwing one leg over Yugyeom’s knees, “Should I bring a gift? Snacks? Drinks? Refreshments?” Jackson rubs a hand over his eyes, “Should I put a bow on my -”

“I really don’t think there is an established convention for a sex-tutor kind of situation,” Yugyeom answers seriously but in a way that suggests he still can’t _quite_ believe that Jackson just straight up asked Jinyoung in the way that he did.

“And why should your sex-tutor get anything at all?” Bambam interjects, refusing to eat anything but the raisin muffin but also refusing to eat the raisins meaning that Jackson is going to have to clean up the crumbs later, “I’ve known you for three years and all I’ve ever gotten is different types of homemade gift cards for various massages.”

“Hey, I give very nice massages,” Jackson says, affronted.

“You do,” Youngjae says with a hum of agreement, finishing whatever he has been doing on the computer because he lowers the screen and looks up at them, focusing on the conversation, “But don’t stress the gift, hyung, just be yourself. You are sweet, clean, and moderately respectful when you want to be. Believe me, those three things are rarer than you think.”

“Aw, thank you, Youngjae-ah -” Jackson says, a bit surprised but pleased, just about to ask how Youngjae apparently knows enough about casual sex so that he can say _rarer than you think_.

“Give him a gift card for a minute of silence,” Bambam snorts, grinning widely, “He’ll want it, after a couple of days with you.” Yugyeom bursts into bird-like laughter, he and Bambam falling a bit against each other, pulled together by personal magnetism and their shared love for teasing their elders.

“Cute, Bam.” Jackson says dryly, rolling his eyes as Youngjae smiles a bit and leans forward.

“Do you have something on your neck, Bam-ah?” Youngjae says mildly, his mole underneath his eye disappearing into his smile.

“No.” Bambam says immediately, slapping a hand to his neck, he and Yugyeom sharing a slightly panicked look before Bambam sputters something about going to find Mark and slinking away. 

“Subtle,” Jackson mutters, humming in fascination as Yugyeom slowly seems to be eaten up his own blush, starting from the ears and going downwards. Youngjae laughs brightly.

“Be nice, Jackson-hyung.”

Jackson shrugs noncommittally, looking at his wristwatch, “Mark-hyung really needs to stop drinking coffee. If this continues, Bambam is going to win the bet.”

“He won’t,” Youngjae says with such quiet certainty that makes Jackson raise an eyebrow. But before he can say anything Mark and Bambam come back, Bambam glowering a bit at an unphased Youngjae as he touches his fingers to his unblemished, untouched neck.

“They are going to fire you, you know,” Mark says as he sits down in his armchair, Bambam trying to squeeze himself into the non-existent space between Jackson and the armrest, apparently trying to keep a physical body between him and Yugyeom. Jackson, with little to no sympathy, does not move a muscle, merely watching as Bambam tries, and fails, to shove Jackson a bit to the side.

“They won’t, he’s the best worker they have.” Bambam mutters, “And an _immovable object_ , apparently.”

Jackson lights up at the compliment, perking up immediately, turning to Bambam to smother him in affection. Bambam, eyes wide, hurriedly continues,

“Don’t get any ideas, you’re still like, a glorified coffee machine, you can’t even skim milk that well.”

“Aww, I love you too, Bammie.” Jackson envelopes Bambam into his arms, and Bambam squeaks as he is pulled into Jackson’s lap. He struggles for a minute before resignedly staring up into the sky as Jackson squeezes him tightly, “I feel so _loved_.” He pauses, grip still tight around Bambams waist, sighing deeply, “I still don’t know what to bring though.”

“Just wear that blue sweater you have.” Bambam grumbles, leaning his head into Jackson’s hair, letting himself lean just a little bit into the embrace (Jackson won’t tell, and Bambam will deny it until his dying breath), “It makes you look very cute.”

“Thanks, Bam.” Jackson smiles, pressing a kiss to Bambam’s cheek.

“You’re welcome, dumbass.” Bambam mutters.

\--

“This is for you, Jinyoung-ssaem,” Jackson says, chucking the apple in his hand over to Jinyoung who catches it and then narrows his eyes a bit as he takes a look at it. It’s the biggest, reddest apple that Jackson could find at the corner shop, which means that it’s neither particularly red nor particularly large, but hey, a joke is a joke, and when Jinyoung looks back at him, Jackson just grins, “It’s very funny. You can laugh now, if you want.”

Jinyoung’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline and then Jinyoung’s full lips twitch into a smile, his hand coming up to hide the broadening bloom of his grin, his eyes disappearing a bit. Jackson doesn’t rank all the smiles he’s ever seen, but if he did, he’s pretty sure this one would fall within the top ten, “Thank you, Jackson-ah.” Jinyoung says, adjusting his glasses in a way that does make him look quite a bit like a teacher.

Jackson bursts into a giggle, stepping into the apartment, fiddling with the hems of his blue sweater, “Oh, thank God it translated. Comedy is _hard_ in another language.”

“You were worried about this - “ Jinyoung holds up the not quite red and really rather small apple, “- and not about asking me to teach you how to have sex while we were in the elevator?”

“First of all, I didn’t ask _in_ the elevator, I asked in the corridor outside. Secondly, to be fair, I asked you to teach me how to have _sex with guys_. I’m not hopeless with all genders.” Jackson sniffs, but then he blinks, opening his eyes up wide as he makes an exaggerated _you know what_ gesture after a moment of silence, “But hey, humility is important, so if you have any tips about girls, I’ll take those too. There is _always_ room for improvement.” Jackson finishes seriously, toeing out of his shoes.

Jinyoung laughs again, and like before, Jackson notices how it seems to be a kind of startled laughter. It sounds a bit like he’s not really that used to laughing, and as though each time is just a little bit of a surprise. Jackson really likes it, the mirth and mystery of it.

Jinyoung’s apartment is nice, similar to Jackson’s in the way all of these apartments are similar, clearly made from the same mold. There is a large bookcase covering one wall, a couple of paintings on the wall, and a sofa that looks well-loved but not dingy. 

“Very cozy.” Jackson smiles as Jinyoung, in a genuinely gentlemanly fashion, offers him a glass of water. There is a moment of silence, and Jackson has simply decided that he will not be embarrassed about this situation. He decided on a course of action and will now see it through, and he’s _not_ embarrassed about it. He’s a go-getter! An inspiration!

Despite these words of pep and comfort, there is something slightly mortifying about standing in Jinyoung’s combined living room and kitchen. It is similar enough to his apartment to give the place a liminal vibe, while holding a glass of water, being fully aware that they, uh, are about to fuck. Jinyoung leans back against the counter, the long line of his body visible even through the sensible, dark slacks and nice, but not expensive, patterned button-down shirt. Jackson is still smiling, because, well, it seems like the right thing to do. He clears his throat to comment on something else in the apartment, like the white wallpaper. This might be a bit of an awkward situation, but Jackson has managed to make his doctor laugh during a routine prostate exam so he is _game_ for the challenge. Before he can actually say anything though, Jinyoung interjects.

“Why do you need to do this?” Jinyoung says as he looks Jackson over. Jinyoung has the type of gaze that really, truly makes you feel seen, and it’s a bit disorienting for Jackson who thrives on attention but doesn’t necessarily want to be perceived, “You can’t exactly be hurting for more conventional options.” Jinyoung says like he’s talking about stocks. Jackson gives him a fond look, thinking _nerd_ before answering the question.

Jackson aims, as he usually does, for surprising, slightly devastating honesty, “Yeah, well... I do, but look.” Jackson gives Jinyoung the water glass back because if he’s going to tell this story, he needs to be able to use his hands, “Look,” He says again, motioning towards both himself and then the world at large, “The thing is. It was mortifying, you know, figuring out my sexuality. I really, firmly believed I was straight for _years_ , and even when I started to kind of figure out that I wasn’t, I was in a relationship and didn’t really have to deal with it.” He shrugs, rubbing his hands along his biceps, “But then I did have to deal with it, because the relationship ended, and it fucking sucked.”

Jackson spreads his hands wide, “I do _not_ like self-reflection, and coming out was basically a year of only self-reflection culminating in a realization that was both monumental and... trivial.” Jackson runs a hand through his hair, laughing a bit, “And now, having come out, I just feel like... Everyone else figured it out before me, you know? As though I missed the age where it was okay to admit you didn’t really know what you’re doing.” Jackson sighs, “So you go on dates and it just feels like everyone knows what they’re doing, and I... don’t?”

“You’re very good at Korean for someone who seems convinced they can’t speak it well,” Jinyoung says, softly, looking very much as though he really wanted to say something else. Jackson wants to lean forward and kiss him. Jackson wants to make him laugh again, and then catch his hand so that he can’t hide behind it.

“I know there is no, like, deadline for figuring yourself out.” Jackson mutters underneath his breath, “I know that, but it’s... I’m impatient. And you’re hot, and you said yes, and hey, why _not_ do it like this?” Jackson snorts, a short sniff of a sound that sounds a bit like aborted laughter, “And now you have something to put up on your resume if your academic career falls through.”

Jinyoung snorts into laughter again, and Jackson gives a broad, closed-lipped smile, stepping forward so that he can look into Jinyoung’s face.

“Educator of the sexually challenged,” Jackson continues, making Jinyoung laugh a bit harder, “Coordinator of peer 2 peer learning in physical education.” At that, Jinyoung laughs hard enough to break his perfect posture, and Jackson feels so proud of it he’s almost taken aback by the strength of his own emotions. Before he can examine that, Jinyoung looks up, still smiling, his voice still carrying the aftershocks of a good laugh.

“You’ll have to write me a recommendation letter, then.” Jinyoung hums, and just like that, the emotion shifts into something else, something a little bit darker, a little bit heavier.

“Better yet, I’ll be your live reference, if you prove yourself.” Jackson breathes out, swaying forward until they are both in each other’s personal space.

“I strive for excellence,” Jinyoung murmurs, leaning forward to trace a hand along Jackson’s waist, pulling him a bit closer. Jackson will not squeak, squeal, or do any other embarrassing noises today. He’s promised himself, and he plans on making himself _proud_. He will, however, allow himself the slightly shaky breath he exhales at the way Jinyoung pulls him closer. At the way Jackson _lets_ himself be pulled closer, “Just before we -” Jinyoung says, committing a serious crime in deciding to have a conversation instead of a kiss, “- start this, I need you to know that I... I don’t really do relationships. I know that’s not what you’re asking for, but I just want us to be on the same page. I only do casual.”

“Good. I’m _great_ at casual,” Jackson lies, as though he is not the type to make Mark pet his hair for at least an hour after a failed first date.

“Fantastic.” Jinyoung says, lowering his voice an octave, and Jackson gets a distinct feeling that Jinyoung is mocking him a bit. Or, well, not mocking him. Jinyoung’s eyes are warm, so more like... They’re sharing a joke. As though Jackson’s enthusiasm is funny and endearing rather than annoying. It makes Jackson flush, at being in on the joke.

“So... where do you want to start?” JInyoung continues, raising an eyebrow. Jinyoung isn’t that much taller than him (he _isn’t_ ), but he is taller enough so that Jackson feels a bit crowded, a bit leaned over, and Jinyoung - Jinyoung has an _aura_. For a second, Jackson is starkly reminded of the reality of the entire situation, shame finally catching up with him, and he meets the sudden rush of _shame_ with a welcoming burst into insecurity. Jackson knows that he’s not... He knows that he looks good, that he works hard to look good, but it’s _different_ to someone like Jinyoung, someone who so clearly falls into the mold of a handsome man, with his broad shoulders, sharp jaw, and long legs. Honestly, if someone ever managed to harness the tension between Jackson’s sincere belief that he is both God’s gift to humanity and simultaneously nothing more than a bunch of insecurities and imperfections stuck inside a subpar skin suit, you could probably power the entirety of Seoul with the resulting energy. 

_Focus, Jackson_.

“I made a list,” Jackson says a bit breathlessly, leaning back a bit from Jinyoung’s... whole thing so that he can breathe. Jinyoung raises an eyebrow, and Jackson answers the wordless astonishment with a slightly shrilly, “What!”

“You made a list,” Jinyoung repeats, his voice sounding amused again.

“Of course I made a list. I’m a dedicated student. Mark didn’t want to help me make it into an excel spreadsheet, which like, what’s your entire statistics degree good for then, _Mark_? But whatever. I have sub-categories and everything.” Jinyoung is smiling again, and this time Jackson brings his hands up to cup Jinyoung’s face, effectively making sure that he can see and hear the entirety of that broad, surprisingly goofy smile, “I’ll share it with you later. But, uh, like, start with blowjobs, maybe? I feel like I’d be good at blowjobs if someone taught me how to give them.”

Jinyoung’s eyes flicker down to Jackson’s lips and then takes a step forward and suddenly they are _so_ close again, and then finally, _finally_ , Jinyoung leans down and kisses him. 

And fuck, it’s a good fucking kiss. Jinyoung has one hand on the back of Jackson’s head, entangling themselves in Jackson’s hair. Jackson slides closer, slots their bodies tighter together, wraps his arms around Jinyoung’s neck. Between one breath and the next, Jinyoung pulls away, the hand around Jackson’s neck sliding up so that he can thumb at Jackson’s bottom lip, his gaze dark and hungry.

“Yeah,” he breathes out against Jackson’s lips, “Yeah, we can start with blowjobs.”

\--

“Careful,” Jinyoung murmurs as he takes Jackson’s hand, pushing it down Jinyoung’s body, their interlaced fingers tracing across his chest, down to the bulge in his trousers, “Gentle.” They’re in Jinyoung’s bedroom because Jinyoung has a roommate and is, of course, a _good_ roommate that doesn’t defile the communal couch.

“Yeah,” Jackson swallows, tracing his fingers feather-light across the heavy, hot weight hidden behind clothed layers, running his fingers across the length of it, settling on his knees in between Jinyoung’s spread knees, “Yeah, I can do careful.”

Jinyoung unbuttons his pants, raising his hips slightly so that Jackson can pull both those and underwear down. If Jackson’s throat wasn’t so dry, he’d probably had laughed a bit at the way the fabric catches on Jinyoung’s hardening cock, because it feels like such a _porn_ thing. Now, it just makes his blood run a bit hotter. And, fuck if it’s not a lovely dick. Like, it’s a good-looking cock. It’s incredibly fucking pretty, pale and curved, the fattening head glistening wet and size just on the right side of average. It suits the rest of Jinyoung perfectly, “It’s very pretty,” Jackson murmurs, looking up at Jinyoung with bright eyes.

Jinyoung blinks, “Thanks?”

“You’re welcome.” Jackson licks his lips and thinks about the last time he tried this and almost vomited because of an errant hip thrust. He feels the phantom push of something against his gag reflex, of the humiliation afterward as he had sputtered and gasped. _Use your words, Jackson. You can’t shut up ordinarily, don’t stop now_ , “I - I’m not good at this, I need help to - get started.” Jackson’s voice is a bit thick, and he looks up at Jinyoung underneath his eyelashes.

Jinyoung nods, the first few words sounding a bit hoarse before his tone evens out, “Okay, I’m usually good at keeping still, so don’t worry too much about that, but keep a hand on my thigh, it’ll give you some leverage to keep me still if you need it.” Jackson flexes his hand, placing it against Jinyoung’s pale inner-thigh, a shade lighter gold than the rest of him.

“Start by touching it. Get used to the feel, use the time to wet your mouth, you’ll need it for the slide -” Jinyoung breathes out as Jackson follows each instruction seriously, feeling out the weight of the cock that is fattening beneath his fingers, moving his hand slightly to add a bit of friction, “Yeah, not too much, not yet -” Jackson leans forward, opening his mouth to ease the head into his mouth, and pushes down a bit too fast.

“Not _yet,_ Jackson,” Jinyoung hisses, shifting his weight in a way that isn’t good, that means he’s uncomfortable.

“Sorry,” Jackson murmurs, swallowing around the remembrance of being pushed out of bed, still gagging, after that guy had pushed his head down over his cock, “Sorry, I just don’t want you to get bored.” He says it with a bit of a smile, gives it the tilt of a joke, but Jinyoung merely narrows his eyes at him, his eyes flickering over Jackson’s face before sighing and shaking his head. He pulls Jackson up, places one hand on Jackson’s neck, making their gazes meet.

“You’ve given head before, right? To a girl?” 

Jackson nods, “Yeah, of course -”

“And you’ve gotten head too, right, from a girl?”

“Uh -”

“Did you like it?” Jinyoung looks at him expectantly. Jackson blinks at him,

“Yes, I did. I like it a lot.” Jackson says earnestly, and Jinyoung breathes out.

“It’s not that different, it’s obviously not the _same_ , but it’s... enjoyable for the same reasons, if you like oral.” Jinyoung releases his hold and Jackson furrows his brow, thinks it over, “I’ll talk you through it, but just - just remember what _you_ like too.”

Sexual epiphanies do not necessarily come while you are on the floor between a hot guy's legs, but there are worse places to have them (like in the car, breaking up with your girlfriend because of an undeleted pornhub-history of all things, and suddenly realizing that oh, _oh_ , it’s not just a _phase_ ). Sometimes, it’s things you already know but need to hear again, told to you by a pretty boy with his dick out. Jackson hums thoughtfully, and this time, when he looks up at JInyoung, the smile he gives is all real.

“I’ve watched too much porn,” Jackson says seriously, more to himself than anything else, “Rookie mistake, honestly.”

“Happens to the best of us.” Jinyoung leans back again, raising an eyebrow, but he’s smiling again, “Want to try again?”

“Yes,” Jackson breathes out, “Yeah, I do.” He settles down on his knees, takes a deep breath, and reassesses. Okay. What he likes. He thinks about going down on a girl, about her soft thighs around his face, the quiver of her thighs as he takes his time. Okay, he can do slow. He thinks about the way his ex used her tongue, and like some old philosopher probably said; understand the past to perceive the present. He can do this.

“Use your tongue and fingers,” Jinyoung murmurs from above him and Jackson nods, refocusing himself to the task at hand, “Take a moment, let it take time.”

Jackson flattens his tongue against the head of Jinyoung’s cock, humming a bit at the first taste of pre-cum. No, wait - He backs away again, tilts his head, leans a bit closer, ducks a bit to press a kiss against the base of Jinyoung’s cock, flicking his tongue out to taste the hot skin. He wets his lips, gathers some spit at the front of his mouth, making the glide of his tongue against the base of Jinyoung’s cock smoother.

“Good.” Jinyoung breathes, and the hand Jackson keeps on Jinyoung’s thigh makes sure that he feels the flex of muscle. Jackson stays there, for more than just a moment, pressing his tongue against the base, until he manages to get a bit lost in the motion of it when the buzz of his insecurities fades into dazed, desperate focus. Jackson licks a broad, wet strike up the line of Jinyoung’s cock, from base to tip, gathering the bead of precum dripping down the length with a flick of his tongue. 

Jackson is suddenly thankful for the glass of water Jinyoung had given him earlier, because as he presses a wet kiss against the glistening, reddening head of Jinyoung’s cock, the slide really is quite a bit better this time. Jackson wraps a few fingers around the base, and as he moves them, there is slicker friction, made of both spit and pre-cum. Jinyoung’s cock is heavy and hot in his hand, and when he presses another kiss to the head, and then another couple of quick ones against the shaft, Jackson can feel the way it twitches. When he looks up, he finds that Jinyoung is watching him, eyes dark and inscrutable.

He groans, exhaling a shaky breath, tightening his hand on Jinyoung’s thigh.

“You alright?” Jinyoung asks, voice still melodic, but darker this time.

“Yes,” Jackson nods, stumbling a bit over the word, “Yeah, it’s just... It’s really hot, it’s -” He takes another breath, leaning forward to breathe out the next words against the flushed head of Jinyoung’s lovely cock, “I like it a lot.”

“Fuck -” Jinyoung curses, and Jackson feels the aborted motion of a thrust under his hand. Oh, Jackson thinks a bit deliriously, a bit out of himself, he wonders if he can get good enough to make Jinyoung lose that control. 

Jackson’s movements get sloppier, wetter and as he licks, kisses, and mouths at the cock in his hand, his fingers get a slicker glide. Jackson squirms where he sits, arching his back, chasing any sort of friction, because he’s _so hard_. But that’s not, that’s not important, not right now. He opens his mouth, lips wet, red and shining, takes the head of Jinyoung’s cock into his mouth.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jinyoung says again, and Jackson feels the sudden weight of Jinyoung’s hand on his head, fingers threading through his hair. Not pushing, not _pushing_ , just... steadying, “Use - use your tongue, if it’s - if it’s too hard, just press it against the rim of the head, you’ll feel it, it’s -“

Jackson opens his jaw wider, his eyes hooded as he presses down further, his hand tight on Jinyoung’s hip, feeling every flex of his body against his tongue, against his touch. _I love this_ , Jackson thinks, feeling a bit like he used to do at the tail-end of fencing competitions, when there was no energy left except for trained instincts and pure love for the sport itself, _I love this_.

He moves his head, shifts his weight so that he has better leverage, leaning his entire body onto Jinyoung’s spread legs, and on the third or fourth time Jinyoung’s cock slides into his mouth, he curves his tongue against the underside of it, and Jinyoung makes a tight, hoarse sound. Jackson groans at the sound, muffled by the cock in his mouth. He keeps going, eyes half-lidded, gaze blurred, fire burning through his veins. Sometimes, as he moves, he wavers, the stretch of his jaw too overwhelming, the slick hotness churning through his veins like syrup making him whimper. But Jinyoung’s hand on his head is steady, gently stroking his hair whenever he feels Jackson falter.

Jackson has to pull off after a while, panting desperately, releasing the cock in his mouth with a wet, obscene sound. He’s - He’s so _hot_ , he’s so _hard_ , he whimpers, pressing his face against Jinyoung’s cock, clenching his entire body, warm and aroused.

“Do you need a break?” Jinyoung asks, his voice tight and dark, his hand still in Jackson’s hair, and Jackson shakes his head, “I'm close, if you want to, uh, finish me off with your hand -”

“I want you to cum on my face,” Jackson slurs, swallowing as he presses a wet, sloppy kiss to Jinyoung’s lovely, hot cock, “I think it’d suit me.”

“Fuck, _Jackson_ -” Jinyoung’s hip twitches, another half-aborted thrust, and Jackson stretches out his tongue, pressing the tip of it right underneath the head, “ _Fuck._ ”

Jackson looks up, and he’s pretty sure he’s a sight. Red, flushed and sweaty, dazed, and hoarse. He feels as though he’s finished a work-out. He feels as though he’s climbed a mountain. A metaphorical one. Representing fear and the ghosts of one's past, probably.

Above him, Jinyoung’s chest has flushed, visible through the low dip of Jinyoung’s half-unbuttoned shirt. His eyes are dark, his lips open, and he - he looks at Jackson, just _looks_ , and Jackson - God... Jackson loves the weight of that gaze instinctively, as though he was made to be like this, between Jinyoung’s legs, mouth bruised red. Jackson smiles, purring a bit as he moves the hand grasped around Jinyoung’s cock, slides his hand down the wet length of him. Jinyoung’s hand tightens in his hair and Jinyoung probably says something, but Jackson is dazed and gives two more sloppy pulls, fingers shaking, and then Jinyoung’s body flexes, his cock pulsing, cum splattering a bit across the plains of Jackson’s face, but most of it is caught in his hand.

Jinyoung groans as he lays back, chest heaving, looking at Jackson with a slotted, dark gaze. Jackson looks at his cum-stained hand a bit dazedly, humming thoughtfully as he brings it to his mouth, flicking his tongue at his palm, lapping up the cum.

Bitter but not bad. Jackson definitely tasted his own cum before and while he didn’t think it was _disgusting_ the way some people did, he wasn’t, like, blown away about it either. His earlier failed attempts at giving blowjobs just strengthened that particular idea. But it’s so much better like this, with the knowledge that it’s Jinyoung’s cum, with the phantom weight of Jinyoung’s cock still in his mouth, with the ache of his jaw making the pleasure buzz with just a bit of pain. He looks back at Jinyoung, giggling a bit, “It’s not too bad.”

Jinyoung, who is looking a bit shell-shocked, is just staring at him and then pulls him up so that Jackson can splay himself over Jinyoung’s body, chest against chest. Jackson chuckles, voice hoarse and deep, nosing at the underside of Jinyoung’s jaw and then he pushes forward, lifting himself up on slightly quivering arms to press his lips against Jinyoung’s. He shivers, but then catches himself, pulling himself away quickly, groaning a bit sheepishly,

“Sorry, sorry I know I can be a bit overbearing, like a puppy sometimes. I should like... brush my teeth or something first, right?” Jinyoung just pulls him in for a kiss, deepening it with a low, muttering groan, licking away any trace of cum still on Jackson’s face. He pulls Jackson down on top of him, and Jackson moans wantonly, almost having forgotten how hard he is, how fucking hard he has been since _forever_ it feels like. He shivers, gasps, grinds down against Jinyoung’s hand which is hastily pushed down into Jackson’s boxers and cums with a low, breathless moan ending in a whimper. Jinyoung stares at him as he does so, eyes dark and heavy. Jackson sighs as he comes down from his high, blinking slowly at Jinyoung as he leans down to press a quick kiss against Jinyoung’s mouth, feeling slow and warm and sated.

“You came?”

“Yeah, ha, I know I need to work on my endurance but -” Jackson snorts half a laugh, feeling a bit euphoric as he shifts his hips, still sensitive as Jinyoung’s fingers flex a bit against his spent flesh, “- I’m usually game to go again pretty quick, my refractory period is pretty freakish, I’ve heard.” Jackson’s laugh starts out as a chuckle, brightening into a giggle as Jinyoung just stares at him.

Jackson hums contentedly, stretching out on top of Jinyoung, wrapping his entire body around Jinyoung’s like a koala. He presses his nose against Jinyoung’s neck, not even caring that it’s a bit freakish the way he just... smells Jinyoung, breathes him in deeply. They lay like that, for a moment before Jackson swallows.

“Was it good?” Jackson clears his throat, voice even hoarser than usual.

“Yes.” Jinyoung's voice is deep and low, “Yes, it was good.”

Jackson leans up, placing his hands on the bed next to either side of Jinyoung’s head, “Really?”

“You’re just fishing for compliments, aren’t you?” Jinyoung says, snorting when Jackson actually _pouts_ , “Yes. You were good. A solid B, with room for improvement.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Jackson rolls over, pumping his fist in the air, “Jinyoung-sunbaenim, you really earned that apple, honestly, you’re such a good teacher, have you thought about like, teaching for real-real? You’d be really good at it, I swear, and -” Jackson leans over Jinyoung to swipe at his phone on the bedside table, still making sure to touch as much of Jinyoung with as much of himself as possible. So, sue him, he likes to touch, but as he looks at the flashing clock on the screen, he shifts his sentence with a gasp “- I’m _late!_ ”

“Late?”

“Yeah, I promised my mum we would Skype -” Jackson flounders out of bed, falling on the floor, making Jinyoung look over the edge of the bed with a raised eyebrow, he sits there, in his cum-stained boxers, feeling more than a little weak-kneed, and he groans, putting his head in his hands “... I really should’ve planned this better, huh?” Jinyoung’s only answer is a low non-sympathetic chuckle. Jackson sticks out his tongue as he gets up, wobbling a bit. He wiggles into his pants and finds the blue sweater, and shrugs into it, catching a look in the mirror as he walks by the kitchen to wash his hands.

Oh, _God_. He looks _debauched_.

Jackson laughs brightly, snorting as Jinyoung comes out of the bedroom, leaning against the doorway to watch him.

“What?” Jinyoung asks, smiling.

“I love sex.” Jackson stretches his entire body, the euphoria of coming still crackling through his body, and he feels himself getting hard again, just from the feeling of his sore lips and the smell of Jinyoung in his nose, and _whoops_ , let’s not go down that train of thought, he’ll have to dunk his head in cold water when he gets home, “I had almost forgotten.”

Jinyoung smiles, leaning against the wall, and he looks very... content, very handsome, even standing there in his hastily worn, unbuttoned sensible slacks, “I’m glad. Use ice for the -” he motions to his lips, “It’ll make it look less obvious.”

Jackson nods and puts on his shoes, awkwardly stands in the doorway for a second before he bursts forward, pressing a kiss to Jinyoung’s cheek, who just blinks at him again, another dorky smile twitching into shape on his mouth. Oh, Jackson loves it when he looks like that. Jackson wants to find all Jinyoung’s weird little smiles and rank them all on a list. He’ll force Mark to make a spreadsheet, with colors.

“See you later, Park Jinyoung,” Jackson says, winking, stepping out.

“See you later, Jackson Wang,” Jinyoung answers back, voice warm.

\--

(21:14) < < kombuchagirlbjfirsttime.jpg > >

_(21:16) I can’t believe you just sent me a meme about sucking dick._

(21:17) :)

(21:17) there is a whole new world of memes accessible to me now

(21:17) you will not ruin this for me

_(21:18) Happy to be of service. Now send me the list._

(21:19) sure < < attached: bonerlist.docx > >

_(21:20) We’re changing the name of it._

(21:23) < < kombuchajackson.jpg > >

_(21:23) Did you... make that one yourself?_

(21:24) yes

_(21:25) ... It’s pretty funny._

(21:25) i know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> porn is really hard to write you guys, erotic language is, like, *so hard*.
> 
> Thank you so much for the comments and kudos! They really keep me going.
> 
> i should be able to update this about once a week, because i want to chuck some one-shots into the ether in between (my primary house is jinson but my secondary is just: jackson deserves to get lovingly fucked by everyone). any particular wish you want to see? write it in the comments. keep in mind that i don't write any other rating than explicit.


	3. In Medias Res

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know those times you have revelations while fingers-deep in your own ass in your sex-coach's bed? Yeah, I know, so embarassing, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is dedicated to my commenters, who made me write this in record time.
> 
> this is unbeta'd, but hey, at least i'm honest about it.

Jinyoung’s fingers inside him are so clever, so damnably clever, and Jackson whines, mouth open and caught in a breathless whimper. He arches his back, holding onto the bed frame as Jinyoung asked him to do either three minutes or three hours ago, he’s not sure, time has become fluid and non-linear since they started. His thighs are so slick from, frankly, an abundance of lube, that they can’t find purchase against each other. Instead, the glide is frictionless and smooth. When he gasps another breath, the air feels almost scorching, his skin feels sticky with sweat. Jackson pants, flexing his hands uselessly against the bed frame, as though gripping it harder will somehow crest the burning roar of arousal in his veins. Jinyoung pats his waist as though he is a worked out race-horse, leaning over Jackson to kiss where neck meets shoulder, his voice a low hum. The two fingers inside Jackson scissor open, twisting, and Jackson closes his eyes, whines pitifully, his head falling forward. So close, _so_ close -

“Hmm,” Jinyoung breathes out against Jackson’s shoulder, leaning his head against the thick, tense muscle, his voice low and syrupy-sweet, “Close?” He asks, the movements of his fingers coming to a still, but still inside Jackson, still holding him open. Jackson is stretched open enough so that there is barely any resistance, only open, warm heat. Jackson swallows, pressing his own forehead to his bicep, panting for breath. He moves his hips, murmuring nonsense as the movement makes Jinyoung’s fingers go a bit deeper. Jinyoung presses a kiss full of teeth to Jackson’s skin, right underneath his nape, his other hand coming round to steady Jackson’s hip, to make them stop moving, “Jackson-ah.” Jinyoung says, voice still sweet but carrying a warning, “Answer me.” 

Jackson nods, a jerky, useless gesture, “Yes. Yes, I’m close -”

“Then let’s pause for a bit,” Jinyoung says, his voice curling light around the words, a warm blush of arousal spreading through the syllables, but still, he’s so mean, he’s so mean, _he’s so mean_ -

“You’re so mean -” Jackson’s breath hitches, his fingers flexing where they clutch the wooden bed frame like a lifeline. He looks back over his shoulder, mouth hanging open as he whimpers when Jinyoung removes his fingers, Jackson’s body clenching around the lack of fullness, “You’re so mean, Jinyoungie.”

“You asked for this,” Jinyoung breathes out, and his sweet, melodic voice is carrying something like a snarl, something low and feral, something that shows all its teeth. Jackson relaxes from a tension he didn’t know he carried at the naked want in that tone, because at least then he isn’t alone in this groundless, breathless heat, “You wrote it, in detail, on your _list_.”

“Suggestions! Mere suggestions and guidelines! They are for you to interpret, Jinyoung-sunbaenim, not to take literally -” Jackson looks back over his shoulder again, twisting his body a bit so that he can actually see JInyoung’s dark hair and dark eyes and his full, lovely lips. Jackson clenches his body almost instinctively as his gaze meets Jinyoung’s, and he widens his eyes, sticking out his plump bottom lip. The taste of Jinyoung’s cock and cum still heavy on his tongue, still clinging to where it spilled on his cheek, “Jinyoung-ssaem, Jinyoung-sunbaenim, don’t be mean, please -”

“Me? Mean?” Jinyoung smirks, and Jackson can hear it rather than see it, hear the way pink lips curl over the words, and his entire body fizzles with the sound of that smirk, “I don’t know the meaning of the word.” There is a pause, the heat of the air sizzling around them, every gasp and breath still hanging in the air. Jinyoung hums softly, and Jackson loves that, loves that Jinyoung almost always seems to be singing a bit, just as non-silent as Jackson but in a more melodic fashion. Jinyoung runs his hands over Jackson’s body, touch sweeping over soft, golden skin and hard muscle, raking nails and soft fingers over every plain of him, “Now, calm down, Jackson-ah, and we’ll get back to it.”

Jackson nods, at last, closing his eyes, takes a breath. He can calm down. Jackson is great at calming down. A fucking _master_ at it. He shudders as he comes back to himself, arousal not dimming but becoming secondary to the rhythm of his own breathing. He pants, his hold on the bed frame finally relaxing a bit, his muscles loosening. He thinks about breathing, about pulling it in through his nose and out through his mouth, concentrates on letting the rhythmic breathing calm down his speeding, burning heart. His cock still bobs full and heavy between his legs, but as he breathes, it starts to feel just a little bit less urgent. Like the moment, him in this room, Jinyoung behind him, pressing kisses against his shoulders and back, running feather-light, comforting fingers along his flank and hips, could stretch out forever. Like he could rest in it, for as long as Jinyoung would let him do it.

There is a weight on Jackson’s shoulder, a soft sigh breathed out against his skin. Jackson shifts his weight so that Jinyoung can rest between his shoulder blades so that he can breathe with Jackson too. For a moment, there is almost... tranquility. In the end, Jinyoung presses a kiss where he had rested his head on Jackson’s back, a sweet little touch, almost chaste, if not for the fact that Jackson is naked, spread and open, lube staining his thighs, cock and ass shiny and wet. 

“Ready?” Jinyoung says, spreading more lube onto his fingers, slipping them between Jackson’s cheeks, flicking a touch over the puckered, swollen rim of his asshole. Jackson doesn’t answer, because he doesn’t know how to say yes in a way that isn’t desperate, that isn’t _too_ honest. Instead, he bows his head, spreading his legs a bit wider, looks over his shoulder, gaze heavy-lidded and almost closed shut.

Jinyoung smiles, Jackson’s third favorite one, the one where his eyes only crinkle a bit, but where his lips spread to show his teeth. He leans forward, covering Jackson’s body with his own, “I should make you use your words, but -” Jinyoung mouths his teeth along Jackson’s back, and Jackson gasps, ”But you speak clearly enough in other ways, I suppose.”

His fingers slip into place, two fingers at once and without much resistance, but there is still a stretch, and Jackson inhales quickly, clenching down on instinct. Jinyoung shushes him, and Jackson realizes that he’s making small, soft noises, panted out through his kiss-bitten, dick-swollen lips.

“Relax, Jackson-ah,” Jinyoung murmurs, the way he had three centuries ago earlier this night, when they were just getting started, when Jackson was tensely eyeing one lubed-up finger with a lot of trepidation, “Relax for me.” Jackson nods, swallowing, takes a breath, loosening his muscles, lets himself find the pleasure in those fingers inside him, in the breathtaking arousal of being filled. Jinyoung’s answering little hum to his efforts is so _pleased_. Jackson smiles, breaks out into a grin as he hears it.

“Can you take a third, Jackson-ah?” Jinyoung moves his hand, curling his fingers.

“If you want me to,” Jackson slurs back, voice raw and warm and honest, his lips still pulled into a smile, “Do you want me to?”

A breath of silence stretches between them and then Jinyoung leans forward, his voice a low growl, “Yes. Yes, I do.”

Oh. Okay. Jackson nods a bit dumbly, shifts his grip on the bed frame, spreads his legs wider, arches his back, brings his chest a bit lower. He thinks about telling Jinyoung that he’s really flexible, so if Jinyoung pushes on his hips a bit, he could probably go into something like a split. Is that sexy? It should be sexy, right? He always liked it when girls did it to him, when they spread themselves wide, gasping sweetly -

More slick, more wetness, a third finger stretching him out, and Jackson’s gasps are just as sweet as the ones he is remembering. It hurts a bit, but his entire body is hot like a burning stove, every drop of blood in his veins feels like liquid fire, and in comparison, the burn of his rim and ass stretching out around a third finger is almost a welcome distraction. Jackson moans, Oh, that’s nice, he thinks.

“Thass nice,” Jackson says, in what he hopes is Korean.

“Taking my fingers so nicely, Jackson-ah.” Jinyoung murmurs in his ear, the weight of his body pressing Jackson down, and that feeling of Jinyoung above him make Jackson feel more centered, a bit less like his heart is trying to escape from his chest, “You were so worried about one, but then you took two, and now -” He twists his wrist, and Jackson would surge forward in pure instinctual reaction if Jinyoung wasn’t on top of him, weight holding him still, and then Jinyoung presses his fingers against Jackson’s inner walls. Jackson’s entire body swells into a bonfire, like a match catching desert-dry tinder, “- now look at you. Taking three so well.”

Jackson whimpers, soft and hoarse. Jinyoung had talked him through it, carefully explaining each step when they’d started, but this feels different. These words have a different sway, a different feel. Jinyoung presses his fingers against Jackson’s prostate again, but instead of a light, fleeting touch, it is purposeful heavy pressure. Jackson gasps right out, his body tightening, his cock twitching, so heavy, so hot between his legs, untouched - _ah_ \- just a little bit - a little bit more -

Jinyoung chuckles, low and deep, and starts to pull _back_ , and when Jackson registers that he clenches down around the fingers inside him, moans a bit brokenly, forces his voice to work and it slips out of him in hoarse, dark pleas.

“No, no, no, don’t you wanna see how fast I can get hard again, hm, Jinyoungie? C’mon, Jinyoungie, baobei, I - just let me cum, c’mon, I’ll - I’ll get hard again, I’ll show you - I’ll show you how fast I can bounce back, please, Jinyoungie, _don’t -_ ” Jackson sobs, cajoles, _begs_. He’s not even quite sure what he’s saying.

Jinyoung, blessedly, stills.

“Okay.” Jinyoung says his voice sounding far away and inside Jackson’s head all at once, “Okay, yeah - yeah, we can -” Jinyoung presses his fingers inside, twists them around, moves the pads of his fingertips against Jackson’s prostate, his touch deliberate and steady. Jinyoung’s other hand lets go of Jackson’s hip, slips between Jackson’s legs, wrapping around his neglected cock. He traces the hardness of it, slicks the lube that has slipped down from Jackson’s ass to his balls to his cock over the length of it, thumbing away the precum dripping steadily from the slit. He steadies his grip, pushes his finger deeply as he tugs at the foreskin of Jackson’s cock, matching the movements. Jackson’s toes curl, his body tenses, and as he starts to cum, Jinyoung leans over him, twists their bodies together so that Jackson is on his side, his hands losing their grip on the bed frame. Their lips meet, and Jinyoung swallows every breathless whimper, every gentle, freeing gasp. They share breath for a second, for a minute, for an hour, as Jackson’s spills against the soiled sheets. 

Jackson’s body loosens almost comically, his arms weakening to make him fall forward, his forehead against his forearms resting on the bed. His legs tremble with his ass still in the air and as Jinyoung pulls his fingers out of him, Jackson’s entire body twitches one last time. Jackson blinks slowly, breathing into the sheets. He’s pretty sure he’s drooling. He would apologize for that if Jinyoung hadn’t cum in his _hair_ earlier (fine, it’s _hard_ to direct cum, sure, but _still_. Jinyoung’s supposed to be a _professional_ ). He giggles, swallowing the sound quickly, before turning his heavy head, looking back at Jinyoung who is watching him with something thick in his gaze. He smiles, and it _feels_ wobbly so Jackson can only imagine how it looks.

“Okay, gimme a second, help me, I’ll just -” Jackson starts, but then he whines, because _ow_ , moving is like being reminded he has a body that has needs other than fucking, and that just _sucks_ right now. He pouts as he turns on his side, flailing a hand backward to reach for Jinyoung, his mouth pulled into a pout, “Jinyoungie, help me out, let me be on my back.” Jinyoung chuckles as he grabs Jackson’s hand, pulls at him to helps him turn around so that he can rest against the bed-frame, half-sitting, “Don’t laugh at me,” Jackson whines swatting at Jinyoung’s hand, “Fiend!”

“I’m not laughing _at_ you,” Jinyoung says, like a lying liar, because his voice is still all warm and full of laughter, and he’s definitely _smiling_. Jackson just glares at him, which he’s sure is more intimidating when he’s a bit less, uh, disheveled. He sucks his bottom lip in behind his teeth, and then pouts it further out, “I’m _not_ ,” Jinyoung laughs, making a cross over his heart with his still lube-shiny fingers, “Scout’s honor.” Jackson just rolls his eyes.

“Kiss me instead, you ass,” Jackson stretches out a hand, grasping at Jinyoung’s flawless, warm skin, at his muscled bicep (he’s so _fit_ underneath those sweaters, all broad shoulders and thick arms, and Jackson loves it, loves it the way he loves his own fitness, the curve, strength of his body), and Jinyoung moves closer, eyes still smiling, “Don’t _laugh_ -”

Jinyoung presses their lips together, a huff of laughter escaping his lips into Jackson’s mouth, and Jackson opens his mouth to accept it, to swallow it down and keep it safe inside him. Their lips move together, Jackson meets Jinyoung’s tongue with his own, “Don’t you dare put that hand in my hair,” Jackson murmurs in between breaths, in between the sweet chaste little kisses Jinyoung gives him between the deep, heavy ones. Jinyoung’s hand, which had indeed been on its way to entangle itself in Jackson’s hair, stills. Jinyoung loves to cradle Jackson’s head when they kiss. It’s not something Jinyoung brings up when Jinyoung talks Jackson through something new, the way he did with the blow job or the fingering, so Jackson can only surmise that it’s something Jinyoung just likes to do.

Jackson loves it too because Jinyoung’s hands are fantastic, very steady, top-tier hands, honestly, but not _now_ , not covered in lube, “You can hold my neck if you want.” Jackson tilts his head up, wraps an arm around Jinyoung’s neck.

“Yeah,” Jinyoung answers, wiping his hand on the sheets and then sliding it into place against Jackson’s neck, one thumb underneath Jackson’s jaw, tilting his head up. This time, the kiss is slow, deliberate, _deep_. Jackson moans into it and pulls Jinyoung closer, and - ah - there we go. There is a slow-burn of pleasure starting to build, more syrupy than the last one, but still there, still growing. Jackson’s hips twitch, and he breaks the kiss to moan as his cock, once more, starts to harden. It never _really_ softened. It takes forever for him to soften completely.

“Told you,” Jackson breathes out, pulling Jinyoung’s bottom lip in between his teeth, shivering as Jinyoung hums.

“You did,” Jinyoung answers, his own cock only a bit chubbed, heavy, and mostly soft between his legs. Jinyoung only comes once, but he can hold out pretty well, which he’d proven last time, when Jackson had worked to get better at his cocksucking skills and Jinyoung had made Jackson suck him off for almost 30 minutes, “Show me.”

“Hm?” Jackson whines as Jinyoung pulls back, but then Jinyoung’s gaze is dark and deep, and Jackson swallows around the sound, shuts up so he can hear Jinyoung better.

“Do it yourself,” Jinyoung says, humming the words like a melody again, “Show me how you come.”

“Pop quiz, huh?” Jackson giggles, soft and loose, at his own joke, swallowing it before it transforms into a proper laugh because he’s pretty sure you’re not supposed to laugh in situations like these. He leans back, brings his knees up, spreads his legs. He fleets a touch against his cock, hissing at the sensitive twitch of almost pleasure, almost pain. Jinyoung passes him the lube, and Jackson murmurs a thank you, spreading it liberally over his cock, down over his taint. 

His cock is still too sensitive, even as it starts to swell, so instead, Jackson gingerly ghosts a touch down between his legs, tentatively ghosting across the rim off his asshole and oh -

“Whoa,” Jackson breathes out, blinking down at himself, as though he could somehow see the thing he is feeling, which is his asshole loose and kind of gaping, not just a tight pucker of muscle, “Oh -” He bites his bottom lip, carefully pressing one finger against it, and it slips in almost painlessly, “ _Oh._ ”

He leans his head back, licks his lips, and concentrates. What did Jinyoung say - ah - _remember to breathe_ \- Jackson inhales and relaxes around the intrusion. Oh, it feels so nice to be filled again, and ah - now he can feel it, the hot clench of his inner walls, the slick slide of lube, the swollen rim of his asshole. His hips twitch almost instinctively, and he grinds down against his hand, forcing the finger deeper. He angles his finger, curls and crooks, but -

“I can’t find it,” Jackson says, dazedly, “I - ” he hooks his finger, and while he can’t find the prostate, it’s - ah - the stretch is still something, the slick and wet, the fullness, the fact that he knows that this should hurt but it doesn’t, how the pain is just a slow, burning, pleasurable stretch.

“It’s hard to find yourself,” Jinyoung hums, his gaze dark, as he watches, laying down on his side, his head tucked upon his hand, “But your fingers are long, you can do it.”

Jackson nods, breathing in-and-out as he inserts another finger, forcing them a bit deeper with careful rolls of his hips. He moves his hand, twists at the wrist, curls his fingers, and ah - it burns a bit more, with two, but now his cock is hardening properly again, and whatever pain the stretch would bring is washed away by the slow, lush, growing feeling of his second arousal. His breath hitches as he traces a finger over his cock, wraps his hand around it, jerking gently with two fingers around it.

“You weren’t wrong,” Jinyoung says, voice tight and low, and deep, “It is a bit freakish.”

Jackson snorts a quick, breathless laugh, “Ha, yeah, but I’ll be pretty useless after this one, it’s - I’d have to rest properly beforehand to cum thrice,” Jackson says, lips twitched into a smile, and then he hooks his fingers and _there_ \- his entire body stiffens, he arches his back, _ah_ -

“There we go.” Jinyoung murmurs, “Do you feel it?” Jackson nods, feeling the slightly raised bump of skin inside him now that he’s identified it, his breath coming in harsh, hard, pants, “You probably don’t have the leverage to massage it, but brushing against it should be enough if it’s swollen enough to feel.”

“Yes - ” Jackson whimpers, letting Jinyoung’s voice ground him a bit, lets it focus the arousal so that it doesn’t escape into the air, so that it doesn’t spread too wide, “Yes, I can, oh -” Jackson whimpers, his cock quivering as he releases a string of precum, Jackson’s gasps coming quicker, “Ah - ah -”

“Can you come untouched?” Jinyoung says, but it doesn’t sound like a question that’s actually directed to Jackson, which is good, because Jackson feels muddled. His fingers twitch inside of him as he tries to brush against his prostate, each time making him tense up and clench around his own fingers, and he couldn’t answer it properly if so his life depended on it, “Can you cum like this, a second time, fingers inside you, not even touching your cock?”

“Ah -” Jackson says, grinding his hips down, “I - I don’t know, _Jinyoungie_ -” Jackson says, because he’d _try_ , but the fleeting touches aren’t enough, it just isn’t enough, he almost sobs, “Please -”

“You’re doing good, Jackson-ah,” Jinyoung says, sitting up, scooting forward to press a kiss against Jackson’s forehead, “We’ll save that for another day.”

Jackson sobs, takes his leaking, swollen cock firmer in hand, and he forces his fingers as deep he can and moves his foreskin across the wet, leaking tip, and the liquid heat grows, pulsates, _crests_ and then he comes with an embarrassingly high sound, hoarse and almost squeaky, as his cock pulsates. His orgasm is slower this time, each pulse making him clench around his own fingers. He feels the aftershocks of it in his _teeth_.

“Slowly,” Jinyoung murmurs as Jackson starts to move, removing his fingers with a wet, soppy sound. His entire body is trembling, and Jinyoung presses another kiss against Jackson’s forehead, and then one to his left cheek, chaste and sweet. Comforting. Jackson leans into the touch, humming in an imitation of Jinyoung’s own little melodic sounds. He wants to imagine that he leans back, but it’s more of a fall, honestly. He crumbles a bit against the bed, lays down flat against soiled sheets. 

Jinyoung comes up to look down at him, head tilted. He looks curious and beautiful. Jackson bites his tongue so he doesn’t do anything stupid like _telling_ Jinyoung that. _Casual_ , he thinks, _casual, Jackson, c’mon, you know this_.

Jackson forces the thought down, concentrates on the slow euphoria after coming twice, and as he does, he smiles, breaks into a grin, “Whoa.”

JInyoung smiles, his handsome face breaking into his dorky smile (hand coming up to hide it and Jackson wants to grab it so that he can see the smile completely without hindrance), his dark hair infuriatingly silky and still falling into his curtain bangs even though he just helped Jackson come twice. And Jackson _definitely_ looks like he came twice, “Whoa, indeed.”

They share a smile, each of them grinning broader as their eyes meet. Jinyoung shakes his head with one last glance at Jackson, before getting off the bed with a sigh, going to get some towels and water to clean them up. It feels comfortable. It feels _so_ comfortable, and Jackson’s heart beats inside his chest, hard and fast and with a longing he quickly tampers down.

Jinyoung comes back from the bathroom, carrying a couple of folded white towels, the tiny ones you can buy in 10-packs at Ikea, and Jinyoung _folds_ them. Jackson breathes around the fondness in his chest, swallowing as he speaks, “I.. I’ll get going, just gimme a second -”

There is a pause, and Jinyoung doesn’t look at him for a while, probably trying to decide how he can say _yes, please leave, as soon as you can_ , without being rude. Jinyoung is mean, and a bit petty, but not _rude_.

“You can stay, if you want,” Jinyoung murmurs instead, taking one damp towel to dab it over Jackson’s cheek, and Jackson places his hand over Jinyoung’s instinctively, their touch hot over the cheap, but surprisingly good quality, ruffled cotton. Jackson meets Jinyoung’s gaze, tries to figure out what that means. Jinyoung looks back, his gaze is usually so steady, but this time it seems to waver, and flicker, as though nervous, or unsure. _He’s being nice_ , Jackson decides, slowly untangling the towel from Jinyoung’s grip, Jinyoung’s hand falling from where it had been resting on Jackson’s cheek, _He’s just being nice, he doesn’t mean it_.

“Ah, no, it’s okay, I’ll just - gimme a minute to wash up. Can I grab something to drink?” 

“There’s some juice in the fridge,” Jinyoung answers, wiping himself down as well and Jackson does the same, shivering as he runs it over his softening cock, flushes as he cleans up between his legs. Jackson stretches, puts his feet against the floor and stands up, stretching his entire body long towards the ceiling. He turns around to find Jinyoung watching him. Jackson smiles,

“Great!” Jackson bends down to pick up his large, oversized shirt, quickly shrugging it on and buttoning a few of the buttons. The shirt is long enough to hit him mid-thigh, which is _also_ great because Jackson could _not_ deal with putting on pants or underwear at the moment. He runs his hands through his hair, kind of wishing he could shower, but that feels like overstepping, doesn’t it? Yeah, it does, he’s... pretty sure casual sex-flings don’t shower at each other's places. Or do they? God, he should ask Mark. Jinyoung is stripping down the bed, removing the soiled sheets, and as he pulls them off he knocks something off the end table where Jackson is standing. Jackson, instinctively, bends down to pick it up. What he finds is a stack of bound papers that are dog-eared and marked with small, post-its in varying color.

“Oh, what is this?” Jackson says, waving the papers in the air, smiling as he turns towards Jinyoung, flipping it open to look at the first couple of pages, “Looks interesting!”

Jinyoung looks at him, then at Jackson’s hands. He clears his throat, and looks a bit uncomfortable, his arms full of cum-stained sheets, and still, well, mostly naked except for the underwear he’d stepped into for his bathroom sojourn, “That? Uh. It’s a... manuscript. For a play,” He clears his throat again, for seemingly no reason at all.

Jackson lights up, “A play! Wow, that’s so cool! Are you playing in it?”

“Yes. Yes, I am. It’s a hobby,” Jinyoung mutters, looking down at the sheets in his arms as though they carry some kind of information that is so important he can’t spare Jackson and the script a glance. Oh. _Cute_.

“Oh, I can imagine you as an actor!” Jackson says, putting on a bit of theatrics, thickening his accent as he makes himself into the comedian, easing Jinyoung’s awkwardness with bright laughter and earnest admiration, “You are so suave, Park Jinyoung-nim,” Jackson leans forward, his hands behind his back, bending a bit to look up at Jinyoung through his lashes, meeting his slightly puzzled gaze, “Ah!” He reels back, clutching at his heart, “Ah, such an aura! Such a natural! Such a _gaze!_ ”

Jinyoung blinks at him and then breaks into startled laughter, quickly muffling it into a broad, chuckling grin, “Jackson -”

“I mean it!” Jackson says, affronted, as though Jinyoung doubting him is like an arrow to the chest, “You should tell me about it, next time.”

“You like theatre?” Jinyoung says, voice warm and still carrying the edges of a smile.

Jackson shrugs, putting the manuscript down in its place and going for the bedroom door, because he really _does_ need to drink something and be on his way, but his voice is still bright as he speaks, “Well, I don’t dislike it. Besides, you have a tendency to make things interesting.” Jackson winks, wiggling his eyebrows, breaking out into loud, hyena-like laughter when Jinyoung rolls his eyes. Jackson turns back with his hand on the doorknob, wanting to ask if Jinyoung wants anything. But when he does, he pauses, because Jinyoung - Jinyoung is just looking at him, with an entirely new kind of smile. Jinyoung’s voice is soft when he answers, “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll tell you about it.”

\--

Jackson is by the fridge, holding the door open and staring into it, kind of forgetting what he was looking for. He’s not really wearing anything except his oversized dress-shirt, because, well, he had to get out of the room when Jinyoung smiled like that. It had been an instinctive reaction, to _flee_ , before his heart just completely burst out of his chest. So, well, now he stands here, looking for juice in his _fuck-buddy/sex-coach’s_ apartment _without pants_ , trying to calm down his erratic heartbeat. He stares into the fridge. It’s well-stocked. Lots of vegetables. That’s nice.

Juice.

Right.

Okay.

Jackson grabs the plastic bottle of orange juice, reaching above the sink to take down a glass. He’s won fencing-matches, professional ones, where he’s been less focused than he’s been at the action of filling _this_ glass with _this_ orange juice and _not_ thinking about _anything_ else.

Success. He takes a big gulp and immediately chokes on it, spluttering as he coughs and tries to just continue drinking his orange juice through it. He forces himself through it, drinking this glass of juice and after that, he is getting his pants, and then he is going home and then he’ll talk to Mark, and then -

Someone clears their throat. Jackson yelps, quickly stepping up from where he was leaning against the kitchen counter, looking towards the source of the sound. Just out of the hallway, standing on the threshold between it and the kitchen stands a tall, dark-haired, handsome man. He’s dressed in a suit that seems moderately expensive (Bambam has taught him how to clock clothes from a mile away), but the long hair and piercings in his ears seem at odds with the rather proper look of the rest of him. Oh, this must be -

“Jaebeom, right?” Jackson exclaims, quickly downing the rest of his juice to step forward and grasp one of Jaebeom’s hands in both of his, “I’ve heard a lot about you!”

“Yes, that’s -” Jaebeom squints at him, not cruelly or anything, just in a way that suggests he’s got a naturally intimidating and squinty face, “That’s me. And you -”

“I’m Jackson!” Jackson stretches out a hand, “I’m, uhm... Jinyoung’s... friend? ” Jackson grimaces, but then breaks into laughter to gloss _that_ awkwardness over, “I’m sorry about this, he said you wouldn’t be home until Friday.” He turns back to the counter, takes up the plastic bottle of juice, and looks back at Jaebeom, shaking it so that the liquid swishes around in its bottle, “Juice?”

“The project finished early.“ Jaebeom says, holding out his hand to take the offered glass of juice that Jackson quickly arranges, finally putting down his overnight bag and looking a bit less intimidating but also more squinty, “He told you about me?”

“Well, yes, of course he did.” Jackson waves a hand in the air, rolling his eyes, pouring himself another glass of juice, “I saw all your music books and your synthesizer, and I _had_ to ask! A very cool hobby to have, Jaebeom-hyung!”

“... Yeah. Sure.” Jaebeom looks at him a bit strange but then again, Jackson isn’t wearing pants. Who can blame him? Honestly, the man seems to be dealing very well with having a pantsless stranger standing in his kitchen, drinking his juice. Then again, had he been a murderer, he would probably at least be wearing underwear.

“Hey, no need to worry. Jinyoung offered me the bed for the night, like the _gentleman_ he is -” Jackson says, grinning towards the door of Jinyoung’s bedroom, where Jinyoung is just appearing, looking more or less put together in sweat pants and a t-shirt. He’s carrying Jackson’s jeans in his hands. Jackson winks at him to show that he’s _in on the joke_ , that Jackson appreciated the offer but didn’t take it seriously, so Jinyoung doesn’t have to worry about a thing, “ - but I have an early class tomorrow so I’ll be out of your hair in a minute.” Jackson laughs, bright and loud. Jaebeom looks _baffled._ Jinyoung looks carefully neutral.

Jinyoung is quiet as he steps forward, giving Jackson his jeans. Jaebeom is looking at Jinyoung with a raised eyebrow, “Are you _sure_ you don’t want to _stay over?_ ” Jaebeom says after a moment, stressing the last words for some reason. He is looking straight at Jinyoung, who is looking back so calmly that it almost seems fake.

“No, it’s fine!” Jackson finishes his second glass of juice, rinses out the glass, and then breezes past Jaebeom to collect his jeans from Jinyoung, “Thanks!” He steps into the deep-blue jeans, bringing them up quickly, holding up the edge of his shirt with his teeth as he buttons the button and zips up the fly ( _carefully_ , he’s not _stupid_ ).

“Your underwear -” Jinyoung starts, before pausing to cough into his hand, and Jaebeom is just looking at Jackson with something unreadable in his eyes.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll take them next time.” Jackson smiles, leaning forward to press a kiss against Jinyoung’s cheek, “And remember, next time I want to know all about your acting, Jinyoung-nim, and how fantastic you are at it!”

Jaebeom seems to choke on his juice, drinking it too quickly or something. Jaebeom wheezes a bit as Jackson thuds a hand against his back with a concerned wrinkle to his eyebrow. Jinyoung is just staring up at the ceiling, while Jaebeom seems to struggle even after he calms down if you judge it by the redness of his face.

“Is he okay?” Jackson asks, stroking Jaebeom’s back calmingly, smiling as Jaebeom just stares at him with both eyebrows raised.

“I hope he isn’t. I hope he dies.“ Jinyoung deadpans, his eyes narrowed, and Jackson grins.

“So _scary_ , Jinyoung-sunbaenim.” He chuckles, shaking his head as he goes to the front door, stepping into his well-worn sneakers. Jinyoung follows him, watches him as he gets ready, and Jaebeom unsubtly shoves his entire head through the doorway, his gaze flickering between Jinyoung and Jackson. Man, Jinyoung really must be careful not to disturb the roommate peace agreement with his conquests if Jaebeom is _this_ surprised to see one. Honestly, what a _good_ roommate! With a chuckle, Jackson turns to Jinyoung, carefully straightening the other man’s t-shirt so that it falls a bit better over his shoulders, smoothing the white fabric out, “See you Wednesday, yeah?”

“Thursday.” Jinyoung corrects, smiling a bit, “My Wednesday is full.”

“Right, I can’t believe I forgot about your Wednesday spa-routine” Jackson waves a hand, “But hey, I understand that looking good takes time, so I won’t hold it against you. And besides, I’ll see you Thursday?”

“Yeah,” Jinyoung answers, clearing his throat, “Yeah, I’ll see you Thursday.”

“Fantastic!” Jackson claps his hand, opens the door, and steps out, “Bye!” He turns around, with one last wave, and the last thing he hears is Jaebeom going, _you told him about the theatre, what_ _the fu_ -

The door slams shut.

\--

“Welcome home,” Mark says, sitting by the kitchen counter, staring into his laptop and eating some toast, “Did you have fun?” Mark says in the same tone you would ask a child if they had a fun play-date. Jackson rolls his eyes, waves a hand at him in annoyance,

“I really should take a shower, but hey, if you want details later -” He grins and gives a saucy wink, and Mark just looks up, rolls his eyes but is otherwise unbothered. Jackson has learned the hard way never to try to actively fluster Mark because it’s almost impossible unless it’s spontaneous. Like that time he decided to get a sex-tutor. Ah. Good times. 

“Don’t bother, Gaga,” Mark swallows the piece of bread in his mouth, raising an eyebrow as Jackson leans against the counter, taking the other piece of toast still on the plate, “I thought you said you wanted a shower.” He sniffs the air, a bit delicately, and then scrunches his entire nose up, which is adorable and handsome all at once, “Let me correct that: you _need_ to shower.”

“I’m hungry, so sue me.” Jackson rolls his eyes right back, stuffing the entire piece of toast into his mouth, “And you would be to if you just had the workout I -”

Mark furrows his brow, interrupting his speech, ”What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” Jackson coughs, swallowing a mouthful of toast all at once, “Why would you say something is wrong?”

“Because you’re being -” Mark makes a hand-movement that vaguely suggests _more_ or _big_ or _overwhelming_ , “- nervous.”

Jackson glances away from Mark’s pretty eyes and his soft, gentle smile full of sharp teeth. They’ve known each other forever. Jackson is a shit liar at the best of times, but he _can’t_ lie to Mark. Not really. There is a pregnant pause. It’s not really a question of who will break first. Jackson has seen Mark win a staring competition with a _turtle_. 

“Am I -” Jackson clears his throat, looking down and away, breaking the piece of bread still in his hand into smaller pieces, “Am I doing something stupid? With Jinyoung-ssi?”

“No.” Mark says, shrugging, “I mean, it’s... weird, maybe, but both of you are adults and...” Mark looks at him, and his eyes soften into warmth, and his next words are very gentle, “Do you think you are?”

“No!” Jackson laughs, at first, but then it quiets into a frown, ”No, it’s just... I -” Jackson stops talking. Mark is quiet. Mark is good at being quiet, in the same way that Jackson is good at talking. It’s comfortable. Easy. He looks at Jackson as though he knows exactly what Jackson’s thinking, which is rude because Jackson isn’t entirely sure _himself_ what he’s thinking. He’s just thinking about Jinyoung, about all his different smiles, about the one he’d worn when Jackson had asked him about the play. Jackson stops talking, leaning his head into his hands, groaning.

Mark offers Jackson another piece of toast, and Jackson, without a word, takes it as Mark gives him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

Well. _Shit_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was blasting Carly Rae Jepsen _gimmie love_ during the writing of this entire chapter. it's such a good fucking song.
> 
> thank you for all the fun suggestions on potential writings! they're all on my list, and some are already more than loosely formed ideas held together by got7's stellar new album.
> 
> the comments on the last chapter made my entire week, and i never would've finished this chapter so quick if not for that motivation, so, hey, give yourself a pat on the back and know that you, yes, _you_ , made the existence of more porn possible. we all thank you for your service.


	4. Clueless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson and Jinyoung have a date (kinda), talk about stuff (kinda) and fails to have sex (kinda).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this work is unbeta'd, unless you count my cat walking over the keyboard, because in that case, it's been beta'd more than twice.

(07:55) i forgot my linguistics book at your place

(07:55) it’s probably in the hallway

(07:56) it’s red with blue squiggles

_(08:02) I found it. Is this Russian?_

(08:03 ye, i’m learning some for my thesis. can i come by later and pick it up after work? i’ll really try to make it before ur grand plans

_(08:04) I can come by your work after my class if that helps?_

(08:05) god it really would pls i’ll repay u

_(08:05) With what?_

(08:06) my body ;)))))

(08:10) jinyoung :(

_(08:11) Just send me the address. I’ll drop your book off at 5._

\--

On Wednesdays, Jackson’s favorite day of the week, he works at the one job of his three current ones that he _loves_. The job itself is located at the repurposed old buildings close to the university. It’s a public gym, and in that public gym, every Wednesday and every odd Saturday, Jackson teaches fencing. On odd Saturdays, he assists the proper fencing coach, but on Wednesdays... On Wednesdays, he teaches baby fencing.

Teaching the baby fencing squad (Q5 junior fencing team if you’re boring) is Jackson’s favorite thing in the whole world. He knows all relevant information about the children, like their allergies, their family situation, and their favorite plushies (each plushie gets a personal name tag, just like the children). He has the parents’ numbers all recorded on his phone, he keeps a diligent list of birthdays, favorite foods, and cute little things they say during class that he can tell their parents about later. He loves these children so much, and they love him back in the clumsy, sometimes cruel, always earnest way that children do most things. Jackson loves their little waddle when they walk, their chubby cheeks and big eyes, he loves their serious little bows they give him when he steps into the room, but he loves it even more when they rush to him after a lesson and gives him hugs and kisses as thanks. He loves his children, and he loves fencing, and Wednesdays are just such good days in every single way.

Today, they’ve been training concentration and strategy, and now they are training the time-honored fencing tradition of ‘hitting-opponent-with-sword’, which is everyone’s favorite part of the day. Jackson is currently letting himself be hit repeatedly with a plastic sword, pretending to be viciously stabbed every time, moaning about the sheer strength that lies behind that little plastic stab.

“You got me again, Eun-ah,” Jackson says, theatrically falling into a pile on the floor as Eun-ah giggles a couple of stabs into his stomach, “You are just too fast for me!” Eun-ah rushes forward, her arm raised like a warrior, and Jackson allows himself to be tackled, wrapping his arms around the little, blabbering body rushing into him.

As he falls backward, he sees a familiar shape standing in the doorway. For a moment, Jackson allows himself a swoop of his stomach, a clench of his heart, because even upside-down, Jinyoung is very handsome.

“Jinyoung-ssi!” Jackson says, grinning widely, climbing up from the floor quickly, putting Eun-ah down on the floor. Jinyoung looks a bit out of place, all posh, handsome, and a bit preppy in a place where sweat has more or less permeated every pore of the building. He is also holding Jackson’s red book with blue squiggles, _thank_ God, “You are a life-saver!” Jackson continues, holding out a hand to take the book as he runs the other one through his hair, hoping he’s not looking too sweaty.

Jinyoung shrugs, a surprisingly inelegant gesture, and looks around him with mild interest, smiling slightly, “So this is your job, Jackson-ah?”

“Yes!” Jackson exclaims, bubbling into laughter, “One of them, at least, and the one I love the most,” Jackson grins, reaching out to grasp Jinyoung’s hand in the one that isn’t holding the book, “C’mon, I’ll introduce you!”

He turns around, pulling Jinyoung behind him to the group of eight children, who are the lights of his life especially when they are all dressed in their little white, padded fencing suits.

“Team Wang!” Jackson says, raising his voice a bit, watching as eight small heads and curious eyes turn their way, “This is Jinyoung-ssi, say hi!” There is a dutiful little chorus of _hi jinyoung-ssi_ ’s and a couple of clumsy bows that make Jackson clutch at Jinyoung’s hand a bit tighter, reflexively, because it’s just _so cute_.

“Teacher!” Hwa-ah says, rushing forward, his hand raised in a chubby fist, tight around his plastic saber, “Teacher, look at me!”

“Ai, Hwa-ah, I see you, but don’t run with the sword, baobei -” Jackson bends down quickly, going down on one knee, he and Jinyoung suddenly surrounded by a bustling mass of giggling children, all proudly showing off their swords, some of them tugging at Jinyoung’s clothes, falling over themselves to speak the clumsy french words for _hilt_ , _blade_ , and _guard_. 

Jinyoung bends down, close enough to Jackson so that Jackson’s breath has no choice but to come out a bit short, his heart beating fast and rabbit-quick.

“They are very little,” Jinyoung murmurs, breaking into a smile as the children crowds him, telling him their stories, asking him everything between heaven and earth, about the name of his wife (he doesn’t have one, Jinyoung answers, glancing at Jackson), the name of his animals (he doesn’t have those either) and his favorite color (blue). 

“Because they are _babies_!” Jackson exclaims, gathering two of the children into his arms, lifting them up with a whoop, all to the indignant background drop of five-year-olds going “ _i’m not a baby_!”.

He turns back to Jinyoung, who is looking up at him, his eyes warm and fond and his smile is soft and small, tucked away into a corner of his mouth. Oh, that’s... a really nice one. Well, Jackson thinks, swallowing around the flush that threatens to break out on his face, babies _should_ bring out the best in everyone. It speaks well to Jinyoung’s character, honestly.

He opens his mouth to say something, exactly what he is thinking, probably, if he looks at his track record, but then there is a yelp and a burst of a sniffle and Jackson is fast as a whip when he turns around, looking towards the sound. One of the children, Bo-ah, has fallen over, managing to bruise her hand on the one square meter that isn’t covered by a mat. Jackson is at her side immediately with a couple of long strides.

With sure hands, he picks her up, tucking her into his arms, hushing her softly as he checks her over. She’s not hurt, not really, but scared herself into crying and doesn’t really seem to know how to stop. So Jackson coos at her, murmurs how brave she is, what a little warrior she’s going to be, and when the big crying stops and moves into soft sniffles, she points to her hand where there is a minuscule red mark, and Jackson immediately kisses it better. That, at last, seems to calm her down, her body shuddering as the last bout of crying starts to die out. She leans her head against Jackson’s shoulder, tucking her small hand into his collar so that she can touch his skin. Jackson smiles, kisses her forehead, hums at her as he turns around to take her back to the others.

He’s almost surprised when he turns around and sees that Jinyoung is still there, which is stupid, because Jackson had practically shoved his book back to him when he’d heard the crying, and Jinyoung isn’t the type to just leave children unsupervised. Such a _good guy_. Jackson smiles apologetically as he walks back, Bo-ah still in his arms, rocking her slightly on his hip, Jinyoung looks a little bit blank, almost stressed, “I’m sorry, Jinyoung-ssi, I know you’re busy, I’ll take the book and you can just -”

“You want to hang out tonight?” Jinyoung suddenly interrupts, looking a bit flushed, glancing away before his gaze snaps back to Jackson, his fingers tight around the edges of the book. Jackson pauses and blinks at him. Jinyoung’s gaze shifts a bit, but he tilts his chin, looks determined as he clears his throat and speaks again, “You want to, uh, grab something to eat?”

“Oh!” Jackson exclaims, feeling discombobulated, a bit knocked off-kilter, and he rubs a hand along Bo-ah’s small back since he can’t fiddle with his hair, “I.. would love to? But you’re busy, right?”

“No, uh,” Jinyoung clears his throat again, smoothing out his hands over the book in his hands, glancing down at it before looking back up, “My plans got... canceled?”

“Oh.” Jackson says, again, warmth spreading throughout his chest, over his skin, and he carefully pushes it back, reminding himself of the boundaries, of Jinyoung’s melodic voice saying _I don't do relationships_ , “Yeah. Yeah, sure, I’d love to. I’ll be done in about 30 minutes?”

“Yeah, of course,” Jinyoung smiles, broadly, running a hand through his hair, a devastatingly handsome gesture since it emphasizes exactly how silken his hair is. Unfairly silky, really, especially since Jackson doesn’t really have an excuse to touch it until later, “I’ll wait for you.”

Jackson smiles, turning around to hide it, because it’s... It’s a smile that’s too big, too honest, too _much_.

The thing is... okay, so, the _thing_ is that Jackson falls in love easily. He just loves people, genuinely, and he wants them to love him back, and it’s a feedback loop that makes his heart big, sensitive, and _open_. He knows that it can be annoying, especially for himself, but he can’t help it, and while he sometimes wishes that he was different, that he was suave, a bit more guarded, a bit more careful, it’s... who he is. And perhaps unsurprisingly all of these things translate into Jackson falling hard, and fast, and deeply in love.

He should perhaps have taken this chance at something casual to train himself out of it. Harden his heart a bit. But -

He looks at Jinyoung, sitting primly on a chair made for children, which makes the knees of his long legs end up somewhere around his ears, smiling at a child sitting between his legs, showing him the different parts of a sword as Jinyoung makes appropriate _ah_ ing and _oh_ ing sounds. And Jackson's big, gentle heart beats a bit quicker, a bit harder, and he simply can not find that he minds.

\--

Jackson kind of wishes he had the time to fix himself up a bit, but the small changing room at the fencing gym doesn’t really encourage things like ‘taking your time’ or ‘fixing yourself up for a hot kind-of-date with your casual sex-coach whom you might be in love with’, so what can you do.

They end up at a burger place not terribly far from the gym, because Jackson is starving and Jinyoung didn’t really seem to have any set plans on where to go, so Jackson just commandeers the Maps situation and puts in his favorite restaurant.

It’s a chilly night, and the burger place they go to isn’t so much a restaurant as it is a hole in the wall with friars and cooks behind it, and so they end up on a park bench a bit further down the street, sitting a bit too close to share warmth.

“Do you know them?” Jinyoung says, nodding his head in the general direction of the burger place. Jackson, who is currently trying to dislodge his mozzarella burger from the bread without dropping it on the ground, hums questioningly, “The owners? You seem to know them well.”

“Ah,” Jackson says, triumphantly taking a bite from a piece of bread-free mozzarella, “Well, yeah, I’ve eaten there quite a few times, and well, you know how it is, there is only so long you can stand around waiting for a burger before you kind of _have_ to talk about something.” Jackson shrugs, reaching across Jinyoung to grab a fry from where they’ve tucked them at JInyoung’s side.

“Ha, no, I don’t really know how that is,” Jinyoung smiles, leaning a bit closer, “You’re good at that.”

“Good at what?” Jackson frowns, looking at Jinyoung who is just... gazing at him. Which, honestly, is, like, _unfair_ , because Jackson is a sucker for attention and Jinyoung is kind of looking at him as though he is the only person in the world. Which, well, he kind of is, because they’re on a park bench eating burgers _outside_ at the cusp of winter, so it probably carries none of the meaning that Jackson _wants_ it too, but it’s... easy to pretend when Jinyoung looks at him like that.

“Good at making friends,” Jinyoung says softly, his gaze leaving Jackson to frown down at his burger instead. Jackson counts that both as a win _and_ a loss.

“Well, yeah, I guess?” Jackson shrugs, before smiling, poking at Jinyoung’s shoulder with his own, “Good at picking up sex-coaches in elevators too.”

“Ah, does one success really count as an example of a skill?” Jinyoung teases back, leaning into Jackson’s side, probably seeking whatever warmth he can.

“Hey, that’s a 100% success rate, don’t knock it!” Jackson smiles back, “Bet you that you couldn’t do it!”

“I couldn’t,” Jinyoung answers, knocking his shoulder to Jackson’s again and it seems like every time they move, they just happen to end up a little bit closer, ”I’m pretty sure that’s something that’s a ‘just Jackson’ kind of thing.”

“Well, I could never stand on a stage and do theatre,” Jackson says, ears feeling flushed and red, chest full of tentative warmth, “So that can be a ‘just Jinyoung’ kind of thing,”

“Ai, are we talking about this again?” Jinyoung groans, putting his head into his hands, “It’s amateur theatre, _no one_ is impressed except you.”

“Oh, they _are_ , you are just shit at noticing it, I swear it!” Jackson laughs, bright and loud, climbing up on the bench to grab at Jinyoung’s hands, taking them between his own, “And if they aren’t, they _should_ be! I played tree #3 in my school’s nativity play, and I got more NG’s than anyone else!” Jackson pouts, placing one hand against his own cheek, leaning into it, “Really, they should’ve known better, casting me as something that has to stand _still_ for an extended period of time.”

“Certainly, all the director’s fault,” Jinyoung answers seriously, his smile hidden in the corner of his eyes.

“Exactly!” Jackson huffs, “But don’t think I’ll let this go. I know you’re great at acting, and I won’t let you hide it away -”

“How do you know? You haven’t _seen_ me!” Jinyoung laughs, and Jackson slings an arm around his shoulders, spreading one hand out far, stretching it out into the darkening sky, as though presenting Jinyoung with something.

“I have a sixth sense! I _know_ it!” Jackson opens his eyes wide, as though staring into something only he can see, “Jinyoungie, I can see your future and it is _bright_!”

Jinyoung looks at him, all warm and focused again, and Jackson grins back, exuding sincerity and confidence. When he speaks again, his tone is warm and content, even if the words themselves are sarcastic, “You just want to see me embarrass myself on stage,”

“I want to see you _excel_ on stage, Jinyoungie,” Jackson leans back, letting go off Jinyoung so he can place both hands on the back of his own head, looking like he is lounging in the sun, “And to shine myself in the light you’ll exude, as long as you let me.” It’s honest, too honest, but Jackson can’t take the words back now, and as such, he just has to watch the words hang in the air, suspended and fragile, until Jinyoung speaks again.

“You’re ridiculous,” Jinyoung looks away, “You’re _ridiculous_ ,” He repeats, something thick in his voice, and Jackson just huffs, rolling his eyes.

“Well, I’ll make you eat your words once I’m proven right.”

Jinyoung just huffs at that and then steals a couple of Jackson’s fries, and Jackson swats a bit at his hand but lets him, and the silence is... nice, comfortable.

“Why languages?” Jinyoung asks, after a while munching on cold fries, which Jackson knows can’t be good, but he keeps stealing them from Jackson anyway, and Jackson’s not going to complain, because it keeps Jinyoung close.

“I like them.” Jackson shrugs, “I like being able to talk to people.”

“You know English, right?” Jinyoung murmurs, “So why learn the other ones, as well?”

No one... asks him that. Not really. Jackson’s academic career isn’t really a joke, but it’s also... It’s seen as a plan b, a second-best thing when fencing was no longer an option. No one, probably not even Mark, actually thinks he’s serious about it, so no one... asks. It’s nice, being asked.

Jackson swallows a bit, feeling a bit tongue-tied for really no reason at all, “There’s a quote, like, it’s not _real,_ it’s a simplified version of the real thing but, uh, it’s...” Jackson runs a hand through his hair, “If you talk to a man in a language he understands, that goes to his head. If you talk to a man in _his_ language, that goes to his heart,” Jackson looks down at his hands, nervously fidgeting with his fingers, “And that... That’s kind of why. I want to talk to people’s hearts, you know?”

There is a moment of silence, their breaths escaping in little huffs of cold and steam, but where their shoulders touch, where their legs line up, there is warm, fiery heat.

“Yeah,” Jinyoung says, in the end looking at him, “Yeah, I get it. It... suits you.”

Jackson smiles, leaning forward, both hands on either side of him, tucking his shoulders close around his ears to hide his blush. After a moment, Jinyoung places one hand against Jackson’s cheek, making him look up to meet his dark gaze. Jinyoung is - Jinyoung is so fucking handsome. It’s not even _funny_. He’s perfect, flawless, transcendent.

“You’ve got something -,” Jinyoung murmurs, his voice low and his gaze warm, and Jackson squirms at the sound, flushes at the warmth, “- right here.” A graze of Jinyoung’s thumb against the side of his mouth, against the plump flesh of his bottom lip.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Jinyoung leans forward, tilting his head, and Jackson - Jackson leans up, turning towards Jinyoung like a flower to the sun. Their breaths mingle, all heat and flush, and then their lips meet, warm even surrounded by cold. Jinyoung brings one hand around to cradle Jackson’s head, his fingers tugging at Jackson’s hair, bringing him closer, pushing them together. 

Jackson laughs, breathlessly, when they part, bringing his arms to rest around Jinyoung’s shoulders, leaning their foreheads together, the chill of the air completely forgotten in the warmth of their breaths, the slide of their tongues, the flesh of their lips.

“Take me back to your place?” Jackson murmurs, heat simmering in the pit of his stomach, a heat born from something more than a kiss, born from quiet compliments slipped between them on a winter’s night.

“Yeah,” Jinyoung breathes, pressing a chaste little kiss onto Jackson’s lips, as though signing his bigger kiss with a signature, “Yeah, I’ll take you home.”

\--

They barely make it through the door of Jinyoung’s apartment before Jinyoung pushes Jackson against the wall, taking Jackson’s lips with his own, wrapping his arms around Jackson as though he’s afraid he’ll slip away.

Jackson gasps as Jinyoung’s cold hands slip underneath his shirt, traces across his skin, sliding from his stomach to his back. Jackson wraps his arms around Jinyoung’s neck, arches his back, shivering against Jinyoung’s cold, soft hands moving over his skin.

They part, breathless and panting, Jinyoung pushing at Jackson’s jacket, removing the bomber-jacket quickly, sliding it down to the floor, pushing his hands underneath Jackson’s shirt again, his hands like a brand against Jackson’s skin. Jackson whines, turning his face to the side as Jinyoung presses nipping kiss after nipping kiss against Jackson’s offered neck, Jackson gasping after each one.

“Off -” Jackson murmurs, tugging at Jinyoung’s coat, slipping his fingers underneath Jinyoung’s collar, at the hidden pale skin underneath it, and he revels in the answering shiver, “- off, off, _off -_ ”

Jinyoung chuckles, taking half a step away to shrug out of his coat, not even looking as it falls into a heap onto the floor, stepping closer to push Jackson back against the wall, tilting Jackson’s face up with a hand on his neck, sliding his tongue into Jackson’s mouth, swallowing each soft whimper and moan.

Jackson would almost feel ashamed at how into this he is, at how loose and hot he gets from nothing but deep, warm kisses, but he - he can’t be, not with Jinyoung, because around Jinyoung, Jackson always seems to be gathering heat, as though their proximity somehow sets a reaction off inside him, generating heat and fire, so that when they finally _touch_ , when they are finally _close_ , it can all set off like fireworks.

“I love this,” Jackson murmurs, entwining one of his hands in Jinyoung’s silken dark hair as Jinyoung presses his lips, tongue, and teeth against Jackson’s skin, nosing at his jaw, “I love this.” Jinyoung’s hair is so smooth, so soft, and his mouth is so warm, so wicked.

“You love everything we do,” Jinyoung murmurs, his voice dark, hoarse, muffled against Jackson’s skin, “Sometimes I wonder how far you’d let me go.”

“Too far,” Jackson giggles, arching his back as Jinyoung wraps an arm around his waist, pulling him close, so close, letting Jackson feel Jinyoung’s hard, hot length grind against Jackson’s own, and Jackson thinks, distantly, _you think about me? You think about me when I’m not around?_ , but the thought is quickly displaced and scattered as Jinyoung grinds their clothed erections together, and Jackson just laughs, high and breathless, “Had you asked, I’d have let you fuck me on that park bench,” Jinyoung nips his skin, and Jackson yelps, Jinyoung grinding even closer, their bodies slotting together like puzzle pieces made for each other and even through their clothes, Jackson feels the searing heat, “Ha, ah, but let’s be honest, I’d probably would’ve had to beg you for it, for you to bend me over that bench and fuck me, just fuck me, God, you love making me beg -”

Jinyoung captures his mouth, ravishes him with his tongue, their lips sliding together, their non-breaths and whimpering gasps becoming one, intertwined, interlocked, impossible to distinguish who makes which sound. The push and pull of the kiss is intoxicating, and Jackson feels like a teenager, touching skin for the first time with his heart thundering inside his chest, threatening to burst through his ribcage.

“Please, Jinyoungie -” Jackson gasps, clutching at Jinyoung’s shoulders like a life-line, dragging each breath from a kiss to Jinyoung’s mouth, as though all Jackson can breathe is air that has first passed through the other man, “- _please_.”

With a soft groan, Jinyoung’s hands underneath Jackson’s shirt ruck it up to thumb at his nipples, at the hard peaks of his chest, Jackson gasping each touch into his mouth, whimpering as Jinyoung flips him around, pushes him backward, towards the bedroom and -

Jinyoung is the one to actually trip, his feet becoming tangled on his own discarded coat, and in surprise he bites down on Jackson’s lower lip, yelping as he goes down, he and Jackson too intertwined to do this fall in any other way than together.

They both tumble to the floor in a mess of limbs, Jackson falling backward, Jinyoung falling on top of him, and as they hit the floor, Jackson’s head hit’s the wooden slats with a dull, heavy _thud_.

“Ow, _fuck_ -” Jackson hisses, pressing one hand against the side of his head, and then as he speaks he notices the flash of pain from his lip, “ _Aish_ -” he brings one knee up to try and right himself, starting to push himself off the floor.

Simultaneously, Jinyoung tries to push himself off Jackson, his voice panicked as he speaks, “Shit! Jackson are you -” but as he does this, his long limbs flounder, and Jinyoung fails to take into account the positions they are in. Long story short, in his effort to get up, Jinyoung manages to, basically, slam his own groin against Jackson’s knee, “- _fuck_ -” He yelps, losing his half-pushed up position to fall down once again, landing on top of Jackson, his weight pushing completely into Jackson’s chest.

“Oof -” Jackson coughs, “- ah _fuck_ -” he flails a bit, pushing at Jinyoung’s shoulder, “Can’t breathe Jinyoungie -”

“Oh, _God_ ,” Jinyoung exclaims, pushing himself up one more time, obviously still in pain, and he rolls off Jackson to lay at his side, burying his head in the crook of his own elbow, wincing in pain.

Jackson gingerly touches the back of his head, grimaces a bit at the tender bruise forming there. He feels a bit woozy, looking at Jinyoung who is still hiding underneath his own arm, and Jinyoung -

God, he’s so _red_. Jinyoung is flushed _crimson_ , and Jackson can’t help but snort at the sight. Jinyoung raises his arm just a bit, and - oh, he looks so _embarrassed_. Jinyoung, the suave sex-legend, is lying on the floor absolutely _mortified_ because he tripped over a _coat_. Jackson snorts again, this time it actually breaks into a high-pitched giggle, a giggle he quickly tries to stifle as he watches Jinyoung’s beautiful eyes turn big and puppy-like, and he looks...

“So adorable,” Jackson giggles, wincing as he pushes himself off the floor to lean over Jinyoung, straddling his hips, one hand on either side of Jinyoung’s face, “Jinyoungie, don’t hide, ah -” Jackson snorts again, pulling at Jinyoung’s arm.

“Don’t laugh,” Jinyoung says, with the tone of begging in his voice, threaded through his words, “Please -”

“No no, not _at_ you,” Jackson laughs, leaning forward, pulling Jinyoung’s arm off his face so that he can look at Jinyoung’s lovely red face, his cheeks puffed up in flushed embarrassment, “But it’s so funny Jinyoungie, it’s so _funny_ -” Jackson bites his cheek to try and hide the breaking grin and bright laughter, but then Jinyoung gives him this _look_ , as though Jackson is physically stabbing him in the back, and he just can’t hold it _back_.

“You should’ve seen your _face_ -” Jackson breaks into peals of laughter, curling his entire body around Jinyoung’s, his high-pitched laughter bouncing off the hallway walls.

“You _kneed_ me!” Jinyoung sputters, indignified, _pouting_ , his lips still red and kiss-swollen, “You - _Jackson_ -”

“I’m sorry!” Jackson gasps with laughter, his entire body moving with it, with the unabashed mirth, and as his lips stretch into a big grin, there is a flash of pain, “You _bit_ me!”

“Jackson -” Jinyoung groans, covering his face with his hands, but Jackson takes both of them, intertwines their fingers, pushes them back, “I’m so _embarrassed_.”

“But, baobei -” Jackson says, the endearment rolling off his tongue in his mirth, his accent coming out stronger, “- baobei, it’s so _funny_!”

Jinyoung huffs, still pouting, and affection spreads throughout Jackson’s body like the sun breaking over water. Jackson laughs, pressing kisses against Jinyoung’s hands, his forehead, his lips, his flushed cheeks, the creases of his eyelids as he squeezes his eyes together, finally letting a smile break out on his face as well.

Jackson tucks his head against Jinyoung’s neck, laughing high and bright and full of warmth, and Jinyoung, beautiful, handsome, _dorky_ Jinyoung, starts to laugh as well, a high, loud sound, bursting out of him like a surprise.

Oh, Jackson has to see this, he _has_ too, and when he looks up, he sees Jinyoung’s bright face curled into loud, bashful laughter, which makes Jackson break out into a new bout of his own giggles, which makes Jinyoung laugh even harder.

They calm down eventually, Jinyoung’s head tucked into Jackson’s shoulder, still huffing embarrassed little chuckles, and Jackson stroking his hair, grinning broadly. Jinyoung looks up, takes Jackson’s face in his hand, winces a bit as he sees the broken skin of Jackson’s lip. 

“I really am sorry, you know,” Jinyoung murmurs, but it’s bright, and soft, and warm rather than _mortified_.

“For what?” Jackson says, pressing their foreheads together, “Making me laugh?”

“ _Jackson_ -” Jinyoung admonishes, but he is still smiling, the warmth of his mirth still tucked into the flush receding from his face and neck.

“Jinyoung!” Jackson exclaims back, grinning and leaning forward to rub their noses together, “It’s _fine_. It’s _funny_.” He sighs, “But I think we probably can’t fuck tonight, I hit my head pretty hard -”

“You hit your head?” Jinyoung narrows his eyes, curling his hands around Jackson’s head, leaning up so that Jackson sits in his lap, turning Jackson’s head this way and that, as though he could somehow _see_ the damage.

“Don’t worry, there’s no brain leaking anywhere so I won’t need stitches. But I’ve hit my head enough times to know that it’s probably good to take it easy.” Jackson wraps his arms around Jinyoung’s neck, presses their cheeks together, still smiling, “It’s really okay, Jinyoungie. It happens.”

“Not to _me_.” Jinyoung huffs, and it sounds so _indignant_ that Jackson has to giggle again.

“Well, I’m happy that I can be _your_ first in something as well,” Jackson winks, pressing a wet kiss to Jinyoung’s cheek, “Ah, so _cute!_ Okay, I’ll get up and get going -”

“Stay,” Jinyoung says, wrapping his hand around Jackson’s wrist, “Stay. I don’t want you to be alone when you’re _hurt_.”

“I bumped my head.” Jackson raises an eyebrow, “I’ll _survive_.”

“What if it’s a concussion?”

“It’s not.”

“But what _if_ -“

“It’s _not_.” Jackson takes Jinyoung’s hands, meeting Jinyoung’s gaze, smiling a bit as he shakes his head, “I’m _fine_.”

“Please - “ Jinyoung says, gazing right back, looking worried, and pouty, and _that’s_ just not _fair_ , “Please, Jackson. Stay.”

“I’ll make you cuddle me, you know,” Jackson sighs, “I _snore_. I have been likened to an octopus more than _once_. I’ll be impossible to deal with. It’s not worth it, I _promise_.”

“I doubt that,” Jinyoung murmurs, and his eyes - his eyes are so _warm_. Jackson has to bury his head in Jinyoung’s neck to not say anything _stupid_ , “I doubt that it’s not worth it.”

_Don’t say that_ , Jackson wants to say, _don’t say that, please, I - I don’t know what to do with that, I don’t know where the boundaries go, if you don’t stop, I won’t be able to let you go, I’ll break my own heart_. 

But instead of saying that, instead of pushing back, instead of going home, instead of guarding his gentle, beating heart, Jackson swallows, cracks himself open a little bit more and answers, soft and sweet against Jinyoung’s skin, “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know how i complain about writing porn? wanna know what's harder? emotions. writing this chapter was like pulling teeth, which was fun.
> 
> i am actually kind of sorry about the lack of explicitness, because i feel like i failed some kind of grand calling, but i felt like the emotional porn had to be good enough. next chapter will be filthy though. i'll swear that on a grave of some kind.
> 
> so, like, you know how i was like "i'll write a chapter a week?" wanna know why i don't? wanna know why i bang my head against the keyboard until it's like two chapters a week? comments. honestly, the comments are such a godsend. i started crying twice (in a good way) last chapter because of comments, and as we all know, tears really lube up the creative bungle of tubes.
> 
> ... also because i kinda wanna write an orgy fic and i don't feel like i can start on that until this is almost finished. but mostly it's the comments.


	5. Oh, no.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson falls in love, overhears a conversation and breaks his own heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this work is unbeta'd. don't blame me, blame the government.

After that first time Jackson stays over (and wakes up, indeed wrapped around Jinyoung like an octopus), Jackson starts staying over... a lot. He tries to make sure he doesn’t take Jinyoung up on the wordless offer after _every_ mind-blowing sex-session, but he definitely allows himself a couple of sleep-overs, curled around Jinyoung’s entire body, resting his head on Jinyoung’s chest, pouting until Jinyoung pets his hair.

He shouldn’t indulge. He really shouldn’t, because he is _so_ bad at casual, even worse at it than he thought he’d be. But... Jackson is foolish, in love and just wants to be a bit greedy, for once. He figures the universe will forgive him for this bout of selfishness. He hopes his heart will forgive him for it too, once it breaks.

It’s just difficult, because look, Jinyoung is just... so good? The man exudes a quiet, silken charm, which makes him attractive, but then the dorkiness breaks through, in Jinyoung’s braying laughter or his petty pout or his unashamed and slightly shy poetry reading. And that makes him _loveable_. It’s a lethal combination, and Jackson, honestly, understands why Jinyoung has to have the “I only do casual” conversation with his fuck-buddies, because how can someone _not_ fall in love. Jackson can not be the first. Jackson will also not be the last, a thought Jackson carefully slips around and does not stay overlong at.

Beyond that, Jinyoung is also just really fucking good in bed. Like, _shit._ Jackson likes to think he has been having good sex, sans some experiences (which did lead to the sex-coach thing), but the sex he’s been having with Jinyoung has been... first class. Out of this world, really.

Jackson hopes it’s as good for Jinyoung as it is for him because there is still some... experience differential, but Jackson likes to think that he makes up for a lack of knowledge with enthusiasm. Maybe too much enthusiasm, sometimes, but honestly, Jinyoung only has himself to blame, making _everything_ so good so that Jackson can’t wait to try more.

This particular morning, after a night where Jackson had actually tried going home but his legs had _honestly_ given out when he’d moved to get out of bed (and Jinyoung had looked so fucking smug, the _ass_ ), Jackson is boiling eggs. He’s by no means a chef, but he has just learned that Jinyoung usually skips breakfast ( _skips breakfast!_ The most important meal of the day!) and has thus taken it upon himself to at least make the man eat some eggs. It’s the least he can do, to thank him for the leg-weakening sex they’ve been having.

“Good morning, Jaebeom!” Jackson exclaims as Jaebeom walks into the kitchen, yawning and scratching his stomach, “You want something to eat?” He waves the spatula towards the boiling pot of water, tugging at the apron to make sure it covers his pantless legs. Jinyoung had questioned the need for both apron and spatula for the boiling of eggs, which had made Jackson sputter in indignation. It’s about setting a _mood_ , Jinyoung. It’s about the _moment_!

“You’re... cooking?” Jaebeom says, probably because he has a tendency to point out obvious things, especially in the morning. Jaebeom then looks at Jinyoung with that raised eyebrow of his that seems to be reserved for Jinyoung exclusively. Jackson isn’t entirely sure what that eyebrow means, but he’s surmised that it’s some kind of reprimand. He usually ignores it, because he’s not going to get in between two roommates having a telepathic conversation. He’s learned that much from being friends with Yugyeom and Bambam.

“Yes,” Jackson chirps before he lowers his voice and says in a theatrical whisper, “Jinyoung thinks that a cup of coffee counts as breakfast.”

“So, you’re making him eggs?” Jaebeom continues, once again pointing out something obvious, considering that there is both a carton of eggs on the counter, a plate of eggshells in front of Jinyoung, and the fact that Jackson is currently eating an egg.

“Yes?” Jackson says, patiently.

“And he’s eating them?” Jaebeom looks between Jackson and Jinyoung, at the plate in front of Jinyoung, which honestly _answers_ his question, but Jackson doesn’t judge, he’s friends with Mark, and Mark takes almost an hour to start talking in the morning, ”... Yolk and all?”

“... Yes?” Jackson repeats, a bit perplexed.

Jaebeom sighs, giving Jinyoung the eyebrow again. Jinyoung just glares back, his face splotched in a bit of a red flush. Oookay. Jackson shrugs, shakes his head, and moves to go back to what he is doing. But before he turns around, he sends Jinyoung a smile. It’s big, closed-mouthed, and sweet. And since turning around means turning his back, he just so happens to miss Jinyoung’s instinctive answering smile, a soft, quiet little thing playing in the corners of his mouth.

\--

Jackson is having a bad day. Again. This time, it is not a sex-related thing but rather a life-related thing, which arguably makes it _worse_. It’s been a difficult week, shock-full of a thousand little moments chip-chipping away at his good mood. He has been speaking a lot of English and French, because of his thesis-interviews, which means that his tongue twists wrong around Korean, which in turn makes people talk to him as though he is stupid. 

Most specifically, it made his lecturer purposely misunderstand him when he was trying to make a point, which is something the more uptight of his professors do sometimes and while he can usually shrug it off, it didn’t _help_ his general mood. It’s just... a bad day, following a bad week. He misses home, he misses Mandarin and Cantonese, the way they feel in his mouth and give word to his thoughts without him having to think about it first. He can’t even bother Mark to help him get through it, because Mark has locked himself in his room to prepare for finals. And not only that, but Jackson’s been made fun of a bit, by his co-workers. And to be fair, most times, it doesn’t bother him that much. Most of the time he takes it as harmless joking, taking it the way it is meant and not the way it is felt. Today, with everything else, with Korean words stumbling over his tongue, making his mind move so much faster than his mouth, making them trip each other up, he’s... struggling.

He also has the _worst_ zit. It’s not as existential as the other things, true, but it’s, like, right on his nose and it fucking sucks, alright?

“He’s gonna kick me out of bed,” Jackson groans, flopping into the sofa, pushing at Yugyeom’s hands until Yugyeom raises them up so that Jackson can place his head in Yugyeom’s lap. Yugyeom hums and pets his hand through Jackson’s hair, putting away his phone to listen more attentively, “Who would want to fuck someone with a zit like this?”

“It’s not that bad,” Yugyeom says sweetly, being the precious child that he is. Jackson scrunches up his entire face in response.

“Gyeomie, it’s basically sentient,” Jackson answers seriously, pointing to the offending zit if it was somehow so that Yugyeom missed it.

Bambam rolls his eyes, poking a bit at Jackson’s legs so that he can shift his position from the armchair to the sofa. Jackson moves his legs and Bambam sits down and pulls them into his lap, gently stroking a hand along Jackson’s shin. It’s very sweet and Jackson has to hide a smile against Yugyeom’s sweater because Bambam and Jackson have an agreement. Bambam acts nice, because he loves Jackson, and Jackson pretends like he doesn’t notice it because he respects Bambam’s need to protect his image.

“Hyung, he’s seen you naked,” Bambam curves his fingers around Jackson’s ankle underneath the pant-leg, “He’s not going to kick you anywhere because of a zit.” 

“And also because he’s in lo -” Yugyeom starts, but whatever he was going to say is lost, because Jackson interrupts him, sitting up abruptly, glaring at Bambam.

“He will! You’ve seen him! He’s _perfect_!”

“Since when do you not think you’re hot?” Youngjae says, blowing at the chai latte Jackson just brought him as an excuse to spend some time at their table. Youngjae carefully takes a sip, “It used to be a struggle getting you to wear a shirt.”

Jackson huffs, “Look, I know I’m not bad looking but I’m just a _guy_.Jinyoung is like, a prince, you know?” Jackson hums, quiets, before bursting into life again, spreading his hands wide, “He has an _aura_.”

And while Jackson can see the way the rest of them don’t really believe him, thinking that he says it as a way to finagle some compliments out of them, Jackson really does mean it. Jackson knows he looks good, he knows he takes care of himself, but he’s not - he’s not _inherently_ desirable. He’s too loud, too large, too much. He excels in small doses, in short sprints, not marathons. He’s nice at a distance, but a mess up close. If he’s honest, he keeps waiting for Jinyoung to figure that out, to realize that Jackson is... not _great_. Maybe it’s a good thing they’re casual. If they hadn’t been, Jinyoung surely would’ve tired of him by now.

If Jackson continues with honesty, it scares him that Jinyoung hasn’t said anything yet. Especially because Jackson knows he’s getting more attached and knows that he’s _shit_ at hiding it. It makes... it makes Jackson hope for things. And he shouldn’t, because Jinyoung has been nothing but clear about what he can expect.

“How much time does he spend looking at your face anyway? I mean, from what you’ve been telling us, you’re fucking pretty much -” Yugyeom starts, yelping a bit when Youngjae slaps him over the head for swearing, but Bambam picks up where Yugyeom left off effortlessly.

“- _all the time_ , honestly, I have no idea how his roommate puts up with you. What is he even teaching you, anymore? Are you trying to get you into, like, the sex olympics?” Bambam rolls his eyes, leaning his head back against the backrest, looking at Jackson sideways. 

“Well! That’s _it_ , thank you, everyone! That’s enough from all of you! I have to get back to work, _heathens_ ,” Jackson flusters, rising up to smack Bambam on the back of the head, the younger man giving a satisfying yap in reply. He pushes himself off the couch, dusts himself off, glares back at Bambam and Yugyeom who has crawled into each other's space immediately after he left, Bambam curling up against Yugyeom’s side. They are both looking at him, each of them with an eyebrow raised, and what _is_ it with roommate soulmates and their goddamn _eyebrows!_ He huffs, taking Bambam’s still half-full cup of coffee from the table, putting it on his tray, and brings it to the back of the house while Bambam squawks his protest from behind him. He washes the cup vigorously, face flushing red and hot, carefully removing any trace of ‘ _what is he even teaching you anymore’_ , and ‘ _he won't kick you out’_ from the back of his head and the careful, gentle hope those words spring up inside him.

\--

“What’s wrong?” Jinyoung murmurs, curling a hand around Jackson’s waist. Jackson sighs, leaning his head against Jinyoung’s shoulder, curling his arms around Jinyoung’s neck. Jackson is straddling Jinyoung’s lap and they’ve been making out, which is an honestly top-tier way of spending an evening, but Jackson has been distracted and fucking up. Jackson sighs, burrowing a bit closer against Jinyoung’s broadness, humming as Jinyoung traces a hand up his back.

“I’m not having a good day.” Jackson murmurs, sighing again, “I’m sorry, give me a second, I’ll - I’ll get over it, just -” He stops, swallows around the words, prepares to push himself off Jinyoung, because they should probably end this night here, shouldn’t they? Jackson’s not going to be fun tonight, and Jackson knows that ‘Sad Jackson’ was not what Jinyoung signed upon, when they agreed on this entire thing.

“Tell me about it?” Jinyoung says, instead, tightening his arms around Jackson, making sure he stays in place. His hand on the small of Jackson’s back slips underneath Jackson’s shirt, but without heat, just in comfort, and traces gentle little patterns onto Jackson’s skin. Jackson shivers underneath the touch.

“It’s not important,” Jackson says, looking away, but he curls his fingers into the small hairs at the back of Jinyoung’s head, strokes his thumbs over the muscles of Jinyoung’s neck.

“Jackson -” Jinyoung says, in his best _teacher_ voice, and Jackson has an almost pavlovian response to it, which, like - that’s gonna be a problem in the future, isn’t it? _Shit_ , “- _communication_ is important.” Jackson can’t see Jinyoung’s face, but he can _hear_ the little smile in his voice, in the warm cadence of his Korean. Fuck this man, _honestly!_ It’s not fair!

“Fine.” Jackson pushes off, and this time, Jinyoung lets him go, watching Jackson lay back against the bed with a smile hidden in the moon-shape of his eyes. Jackson, meanwhile, curls his entire body away from Jinyoung, huffing, “ _Fine!_ ”

It’s late. It’s cold outside, season moving into the cruelest part of winter. The pale, cool light of the moon makes Jinyoung’s skin look luminescent. Jackson, next to him, feels inadequate. He feels wrong, placed badly. A couple of accented languages dressed in flawed tan skin. Jackson huffs again, rising from his fetal position to sit up properly, shifting his brain to find the words to explain it. Because Jinyoung asked him to, and Jackson is a _sucker_ who will answer.

“I - I don’t feel like I -” Jackson splays his hands open, looks away from Jinyoung, who is sitting across from him, both of them on their knees, feet curled underneath them, “I feel wrong. And ugly. I know I shouldn’t, and I know that - I know that part of why I feel that way, and why I say it, is because I want to be told I’m lovely. But... is that wrong? I _want_ to be told I’m pretty, because, like, sometimes I doubt it, and sometimes I don’t but it’s still nice to hear.” Jackson groans pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“Oh, ignore me. I have had the shittiest day, and now I’m here, and you’re -” Jackson shakes his head, looks away, bites his lip. He takes a breath, leans up, placing one of his hands against Jinyoung’s chest, and Jinyoung answers by placing his own hand around Jackson’s, tightening his grip around it, “And you’re _you_. And I keep - I keep -” _waiting for you to realize what is going on, that I feel too much, that I want too much, that I’m being selfish, keeping this going_ , “I just... I just wish I was _more_ , better, _grander_ , more worthy, somehow... I... I don’t want to be -” he waves his free hand in the air. He’s not sure what word he’s looking for. It’s a concept more than a single adjective. Mediocrity, shame, smallness, stupidity, all melded together.

“Jackson -” Jinyoung starts, and then he quiets, looking away, looking back. His gaze comes to rest on Jackson, and Jackson, somehow, feels _seen_. Jackson just gazes back, his eyes earnest and big, “Jackson, don’t you _know_?”

“Know _what?_ ” Jackson frowns, the twist of his lips growing when Jinyoung just stares at him, “Know _what_ , Jinyoung?”

Jinyoung carefully places a hand against Jackson’s cheek, bends forward, and kisses him. His lips are hot, a bit dry. He tastes like toothpaste. It’s comfortable. It’s bone-searing. It’s like being burned from the inside out by the warmth of a hearth. Fuck, Jinyoung is such a good kisser. Jackson closes his eyes, pushes back, wraps his arms around Jinyoung’s neck, straddles Jinyoung’s lap. The kiss never truly turns from comfort into passion. This is not... This is not about that. Or at least it doesn’t feel like it’s about that.

“Sometimes -” Jinyoung murmurs, breathing out the words against Jackson’s lips, they feel private, mumbled, not meant to be heard, “Sometimes I wonder what I should do about you.” Jinyoung gazes at him, and when Jackson pulls in his own lower lip between his teeth, Jinyoung eyes follow the movement, “You make me -” Jinyoung grimaces, for just a second, but then he smooths out, leaning forward, “What should I do about you?” he finishes, voice soft. Jackson blinks, flushing a bit, because that - ah, it just sounds like something, you know? In the end, Jackson smiles softly and pushes their foreheads together.

“Mm, you could kiss me?” Jackson murmurs, rubbing the tip of their noses together, “Kiss me more, I mean?”

“Yeah,” Jinyoung breathes out, taking one hand to cradle Jackson’s head, pushing his breath into Jackson’s mouth, sliding their lips together. They part, and Jinyoung murmurs just on the shift of a breath, “Yeah, I can do that.” 

They fall into each other again, Jackson presses closer, playfully nipping at Jinyoung’s bottom lip, smiling when Jinyoung rolls his eyes, slotting their mouths together. Their breaths mingle, becoming one, until there is almost nothing but _them_ , on this bed, chasing away the distant cold of winter and bad thoughts. In between one kiss and the next, Jackson breathes out, steadies himself, pulls back, looks at Jinyoung and his soft eyes, his kiss-swollen mouth. When Jackson speaks, he feels as though he is baring himself to the bone, flaying his skin open to show something frightened, little, and private.

“Call me beautiful?” he breathes, closing his eyes, flushing bright red in both shame and anticipation, in quiet awe of what he just asked.

Jinyoung is quiet for a moment, but then he kisses Jackson’s cheeks, his closed eyes, his nose, kisses the bared plains of his face until Jackson breaks into a smile, scrunching up his nose.

“Beautiful,” Jinyoung murmurs, his voice raw, tinged with something a bit odd, “So beautiful.”

Jackson snorts into a giggle, a raw, unattractive sound, and Jinyoung leans forward to steal it from his lips. 

They talk about nothing else. They fall asleep like that, Jackson curled up on Jinyoung’s chest, safe, and soft, and warm.

\--

Jackson wakes up first, the way he usually does, and as he stretches out his body, yawning, he feels as though something shifted. Something is _different_ from last night, in the air, in him, in the coiled springs of his mind. He hums, contentedly, yawning once more as he looks over at Jinyoung laying beside him. Jinyoung looks good, with his face shoved into the pillow, strong arms wrapped around it, his muscled back and soft skin all gloriously on display. Jackson smiles, pressing a kiss to Jinyoung’s neck, nips at the skin. Jinyoung rumbles, sleep drunk and slightly unkempt, a shadow of stubble over his chin and cheeks. There is sun streaming in through the window, pale and crisp like the air outside. When Jackson presses another kiss against Jinyoung’s skin, Jinyoung murmurs in his sleep, slow and uncoordinated as he untwists an arm from around the pillow, swatting something that’s probably _supposed_ to be a gentle pet to Jackson’s arm, before turning around and falling asleep again, hand still curled around Jackson’s wrist.

Jackson looks at that hand, at the bitten nails and slightly frayed nail-beds of the fingers curled around his wrist and feels... ah, there is something hot, something heavy, growing inside him. It curls around his stomach, twists into his blood. _Beautiful_ , Jinyoung called him. Jackson smiles, biting his lip, giggling a bit to himself as he leans over to grab the bottle of lube from the end table next to the bed. He uncaps the bottle, dribbles some lube on his fingers before tracing them down his swelling cock, over the sensitive skin of his balls, a soft gasp escaping him as he presses the lubed pads of his fingers to his asshole. He’s gotten better at this, and with a flutter of his eyelashes, a soft pant, he massages himself open with pressure and slicked fingers before slipping a finger beyond the puckered muscle.

Mm, Jackson thinks, arching his back, smiling softly to himself, oh, he loves this. The touch of stretch, the anticipation frizzing and settling into his spine, he loves all of it. When he slides another finger inside, he shifts his weight a bit too abruptly, makes a noise just a touch too loud, which makes Jinyoung make another rumbling noise, yawning as he moves onto his side.

“Jackson-ah?” Jinyoung murmurs again, and _ah_ , Jackson’s name sounds so good, said like that. Jinyoung’s eyes blink open and when he sees Jackson’s hand between his legs, Jackson’s teeth biting at his lip, straining to be quiet, Jinyoung’s eyes open completely, almost comically wide. Jinyoung gapes, for a bit, before swallowing whatever he was going to say next as it slips into a groan instead. He turns around, sits up slightly, reaches for Jackson who laughs breathily and a bit coyly swats him away with his unoccupied hand. Jinyoung blinks, his gaze feeling like a brand as it travels down the length of Jackson’s toned body. Jackson shivers, the anticipation crawling up his back, spreading over the skin of his hips, and as he removes his fingers, he pushes Jinyoung back against the pillows.

“Let me,” Jackson murmurs, throwing a leg over Jinyoung’s hips, grinding his own hips down, slipping Jinyoung’s heavy, hardening cock in between the cheeks of his ass, slickening it up with the lube already there.

“Yeah,” Jinyoung answers breathlessly, voice still rough.

Jackson positions himself, reaching behind to guide Jinyoung’s cock right. He should’ve prepared himself more, but he’s, uh, he’s been having a lot of sex lately, somehow, and, well - He’s kinda learning that he likes the burn of a bit too much of a stretch. He’s learning that he doesn’t mind a bit of pain, especially not when Jinyoung is the one giving it. With his next exhale, he sinks down on Jinyoung’s cock, breath stuttering as he is stretched open. Oh, _oh_ it’s so good, oh -

“Ah,” Jackson murmurs, “Ah, I love your cock so much,” Jackson’s eyes flutter shut, missing the slightly punched out, breathless look that crosses over Jinyoung’s face. Jackson stops, for a moment, gathering himself, and Jinyoung’s hands flex on Jackson’s hips. When the burn feels a bit more manageable, when the uncomfortable stretch gives way to the intoxicating feeling of being _full_ , Jackson starts sinking down slowly once more until he is fully seated on Jinyoung’s cock. His head falls forward, his hands who have been keeping himself open, keeping himself steady, come round to rest on Jinyoung’s chest. Jackson breathes, licks his lips, feels Jinyoung hardening inside him, and moans, clenching down. At Jinyoung’s slightly strangled noise in answer to that, to Jackson tightening around him, Jackson smiles a bit drunkenly.

“You fill me so good, Jinyoungie,” Jackson sighs, shifting his weight, relishing in the fullness of Jinyoung’s cock inside him.

“Move, Jackson,” Jinyoung groans out, something slightly panicked in his eyes, and Jackson feels too good, feels too warm and wanted to ponder why. _Beautiful_ , Jinyoung had whispered, slipped between them in the safe of night, asking for nothing in return for that little word. Jackson nods and starts moving his hips, leaning back, placing his hands on Jinyoung’s legs, rolling his hips, still seated completely on Jinyoung’s cock. He bites at his bottom lip, raises himself slightly, uses every single hard-earned athletic muscle to ride Jinyoung’s cock with slow, measured movements.

Jinyoung breathes heavily, hands on Jackson’s hips, watching him, his eyes wild and mouth open in a gasp as Jackson clenches down again.

“Jinyoungie,” Jackson breathes, almost hiccoughing as he slots himself onto Jinyoung’s cock and it brushes against his prostate _perfectly_. He moans, feeling his climax building, slow and lazy, “Jinyoungie, I - ” He rolls his hips, chases that angle again, gasping as he finds it, his eyes opening into slits, gazing at Jinyoung underneath him, “Ah -”

Jinyoung surges up, wraps his arm around Jackson’s waist, intertwining them completely, and starts to move his hips to match Jackson’s pace. Jinyoung bites into the skin of Jackson’s neck, and Jackson moves his head to bare it, because if Jinyoung wants it, Jackson will give it. He will give and give and - Jackson is still on top and as he grinds downwards to meet Jinyoung’s thrust, whatever he was going to think or say is lost in a long, drawn-out moan.

Their lips meet, slotting together Jinyoung’s lips are warm against his, his morning breath tasting stale, but that’s - that’s unimportant. It’s not the most mind-blowing sex they’ve had. It’s too slow, too early for that. But - _but_ \- it’s intimate, it’s something _else_ , something _new_.

Jackson gasps and tightens as he starts to come, and Jinyoung steals the next moan from his lips with a searing kiss, driving his hips home once, twice before Jackson feels him come into him, coating the inside of him with cum. Jackson pants as Jinyoung kind of folds them over, resting his head against Jackson’s chest. Jackson chuckles, running a hand through Jinyoung’s hair, tenderly tucking a silken lock behind one of Jinyoung’s large ears, running a thumb over the shell of it. They stay together, even as Jinyoung starts to soften, and Jackson thinks he could stay like this the entire day, keeping Jinyoung warm inside him until he’s ready to go again.

“Good morning, Jinyoungie,” Jackson smiles, kissing the crown of Jinyoung’s head, “I’m gonna try to make you pancakes today, I think.”

Jinyoung doesn’t answer, just exhales, his breath soft and shaking hot against Jackson’s skin.

\--

Jackson is at work, wearing the same shirt as he was doing yesterday, and before Bambam can give him any smug shit about it, Jackson simply decides to take it into his own hands. So he places their orders in front of them, giving Mark a pointed look as the man grimaces at the decaf americano. When he’s distributed the drinks, he clears his throat, claps his hands together twice, making them look at him, 

“Everyone, listen up. I have called you here today -”

“You haven’t called us anywhere, what are you talking about?” Bambam rolls his eyes, and Jackson just clears his throat again, ignoring him.

“I _have called you here today_ because I have something important to announce -”

“If this is about dying your hair again, I don’t know why you keep asking our opinion, you do whatever you want anyway,” Mark sighs, somehow managing to sip at his coffee grumpily.

“It’s not about my hair.”

“I’ve told you before, hyung, I don’t really know enough about work-out routines to tell you if a change you’re making is good or not,” Yugyeom says sweetly, biting into his cream-filled petit choux, getting a bit of cream on his lip. Bambam looks a bit stricken, and Jackson leans forward, thumbing away the bit of cream, since he can’t really afford to lose Bambam to gay-denial when he’s got something this important to say.

“It’s not that either,” Jackson licks the cream away from his thumb, holding both of his hands up, “If you’ll let me finish, I can tell you.” Jackson pauses, partly for dramatic effect, partly because he actually needs to gather himself.

“I think -” Jackson takes another steadying breath, “I think I might want to pursue a... date. A proper date.” Jackson pauses, takes a breath, “With Jinyoung.” He clarifies. There is a couple of seconds of stunned silence.

“You _think_ you _might_ want to? _Really?_ ” Bambam starts, ending with a yelp as Youngjae swats at him, sending him a warning glare. Youngjae places a hand on the back of Bambam’s neck as Bambam grumpily quiets down.

“We’re all very happy for you, hyung.” Youngjae says, smiling brightly, “I’m sure it will turn out well.” 

Yugyeom makes a soft, pleased noise, clapping his hands together, tilting his head as he speaks, “You deserve to be happy.”

“As long as you keep hanging out at his place, I’m happy. Jaebeom barely gets any sleep, but rather him than me,” Mark says, looking and feeling sullen because he’s been studying for almost two weeks straight, locked into his room. Jackson presses a kiss against his hair, and Mark relaxes a bit into the hug, rubbing a hand over Jackson’s forearm, “But yeah, good for you, gaga.”

“It’s not... It’s not a bad idea?” Jackson says, hiding himself a bit in the half-hug he’s holding Mark in. He doesn’t want to sound insecure, and he tries to go for flippant, but he can practically _feel_ the way Yugyeom’s empathy gets employed at full force, his entire tall bodyradiating earnestness. 

“Not at all, hyung!” Yugyeom smiles broadly, “I think it’s a very good idea!”

“Yeah, be brave, Jackson-hyung,” Bambam says, sounding disinterested but then he glances up at Jackson, smiling slightly, a bit crookedly, “I’m sure he’ll say yes.”

“I’m gonna go talk to him now,” Jackson says, making a half-aborted motion to move towards the door before remembering that he is still wearing his work apron, and also, that he is at work. He groans, impatient at best and brash at worst, and starts removing his apron, giving it to Yugyeom who gives it to Bambam who starts folding it neatly right away. The manager makes a loud noise of complaint as he removes his apron, raising a finger to _scold_ him or something, but Jackson just places his hands on his hips and narrows his eyes.

“Don’t start with me, Minho-ssi, I’ve taken enough of your shifts when you were too high to work to have you owe me!” Minho, being an asshole but not an idiot, kind of acquiesces the point, and slips back behind the coffee machine.

“How do I look?” Jackson says, spreading his arms.

“Like you haven’t changed your clothes since yesterday,” Bambam deadpans, but when Jackson rolls his eyes, he sighs and shrugs, “You look fine.”

“He should be at the faculty, according to his schedule,” Youngjae says, somehow knowing this and also having access to Jinyoung’s schedule, but they all stopped questioning Youngjae knowing things like this a long time ago. Jackson nods, decisively, grabbing his jacket from the back of the house, shrugging into it.

“Wish me luck!”

A chorus of _good luck_ follows him out the door and into the cold.

There is a moment of silence. It’s always a bit of a shock after Jackson leaves a room, as though the universe needs a moment to right itself. This time, it seems quieter than usual. Bambam makes a low, frustrated sound.

“I can’t _believe_ he hasn’t figured it out yet,” Bambam rolls his eyes, huffing. Mark clears his throat, looking pointedly between him and Yugyeom, and Bambam flushes, quietly slipping deeper down into the cushions.

\--

Jackson is... he’s so nervous. He wipes his hands on his jeans, grimacing at the clammy feel of them, wondering if he can somehow like... just not touch Jinyoung at any point during this conversation. Probably not? Well, he probably _could_ , but Jackson _likes_ touching Jinyoung, it’s been climbing up on his _favorite things to do-_ list now for the last couple of weeks. Okay, so that solution is a no-go, maybe he can... distract him, somehow? Yeah, yeah, he can do that. If Jinyoung says no, Jackson will just throw himself out a window, so that solves the problem perfectly, but if he says _yes_ , Jackson can... uh... kiss... him? Maybe? Is that too forward?

The elevator dings and Jackson steps off it to face his destiny. Well, almost. Jinyoung’s a doctorate student, which means that he has one of the cubby little offices at the back of the university, the place which is more corridor than, like, actual room. Jinyoung’s is a bit further down, and Jackson looks down at the post-it with directions in his hand, the one he’d been given by the friendly receptionist when he’d asked for help.

 _F312, F313, F314_ \- _ah, three-one-five, there we go_ , Jackson swallows, pauses, takes a breath, and notices that the door is slightly ajar. And from behind it, he can hear Jinyoung’s low, melodic voice. He should wait a bit, right? He doesn’t want to interrupt something important, or well, he _shouldn’t_ interrupt but -

Something about the conversation catches, however, something about what they are talking about, something familiar.

“... Jackson ... talk ... don’t take that ...” Jackson blinks, leans a bit closer, filters away his rambling thoughts, and concentrates on listening. Jinyoung’s voice comes in a bit clearer, and... well -

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you told me so -” Jinyoung sighs, and Jackson can imagine him waving a hand in the air, a bit frustrated, “Look, I honestly didn’t know he would be so -” another pause, “Yeah. _Much_.”

Jackson bites his lips closed, he blinks, and - oh, oh _no_. Something dread-cold, lead-like, and heavy settles into his stomach.

“I should’ve, yeah. Well, when was I supposed to bring it up? I know I need to end it. I just realized it this morning, how deep it goes. I mean, sure, I suspected it, but - “ Jinyoung pauses, sighs again, “Stop saying that. I just don’t know how to have the conversation. It’s _awkward_.” Another pause, “Yeah, he’s coming over tonight.”

The thing in his stomach grows, swells like a tumor, like something alive, and breathing, pressing against his lungs. Jackson can’t breathe. He can’t -

“I know I just need to talk to him, but you didn’t see him, you didn’t -” the next words are muffled, but Jackson - Jackson doesn’t need to hear them. God, he doesn’t _want_ to. Jackson stumbles backward, shaking his head, trying to force breath into obstructed lungs. He brings a hand up against his mouth, his eyes prickling.

God, he’s such a _fool_. All the little glances, the looks, all the maybe-something’s, the things that seemed _more_... In a second, a second that stretches for what could just as well be an eternity, a second that spreads out in front of Jackson like an endless empty desert, Jackson sees everything in recap, suddenly laid bare in stark truth. All the little almost-love things, all the things Jackson has been keeping warm, tucked against his heart, they - they were _pity_ , they were _baffled_ , and Jinyoung didn’t know how to - Jinyoung _noticed_ , Jinyoung _knew_ , and didn’t know how to rebuff him. Oh god. Oh _god_. And what did Jackson do? What did Jackson _do?_

 _Call me beautiful_ , he’d said, oh _no_ , he’d- he’d - _made_ Jinyoung say - oh...

Jackson doubles over, shame searing through him like a brand.

 _He fucking_ told _you, he told you he didn’t want more, and yet here you are, here you are, **here you are** -_

Jinyoung is trying to spare his feelings, wants to make it painless, probably didn’t want to bring it up when Jackson was spilling out all his insecurities, all his sadness, all his - all his _too much_ all over Jinyoung. 

Jackson stumbles a bit, righting himself, quickly walking back to the elevator, his bleeding heart cradled in his hands, aching and bloody, broken and hurt.

When he’s back in the elevator, he sees the door to Jinyoung’s office open a bit wider. But whatever God there is finally gives him _something_ because before Jinyoung steps out, the elevator doors slide shut. For a moment, he stands there, swallowing around the burning shame in his throat, but then his legs give out and he slides down, hand over his mouth. He muffles the first sob against his skin, tries to swallow it down, forcing it back. The tears come without him wanting them too.

 _You absolute fucking_ fool, _Jackson Wang_.

\--

It’s later. Jackson hesitates a bit, but then he squares his shoulders, forces himself to be brave, for _once_ , and knocks on the door. It only takes a moment for it to open.

“Hey, Jackson,” Jinyoung opens the door, dressed in an apron, wiping his hands on the cotton as he sees Jackson, breaking into a smile, a nervous little shape of one, and Jackson almost flinches at the sight of it, “Come on in, I just need to finish up -”

“We should end it,” Jackson says abruptly, forcing the words he’s been repeating over and over out of where they have been resting in his throat. They grate against his teeth, because every single part of him, every beat of his bloody heart, begs him to stay for just a second longer, stay in this sham for as long as Jinyoung will allow it because even a minute, a _second_ more together would be worth _everything_.

Jinyoung blinks.

“Uh - okay?”

Jackson forces his mouth into a smile, a grin, and he rubs a hand against the back of his neck, “Yeah, well - I mean, we’ve been... Working at this for a while, huh?” He spreads his hands in what feels like a mockery of a joke, “Graduation time!” He swallows around the false mirth, forces it forward to make his voice a bit lighter, “I - I don’t want to take up any more of your time, and hey, time to - to play the field a bit? Maybe?”

“Jackson?” Jinyoung breathes out, stepping forward, and Jackson moves back, not looking at him. Jinyoung stops, slowly taking back his outstretched hand. 

“It’s okay, Jinyoung-ssi. I know - I know you have other things to do.” Jackson smiles, hard and tight. He bows, deeply, blinking his eyes to rid them of any wetness, “Thank you for teaching me! I - I wish you all the best, Jinyoungie -” Jackson coughs, clears his throat, chuckles awkwardly, “Ah, I mean, Jinyoung-ssi.”

At last, Jackson looks up at Jinyoung. He... He doesn’t know what he’s looking for. Something. _Something_. Maybe he was wrong, maybe Jinyoung was talking about someone else? That would’ve been preferable, that Jinyoung’s been fucking someone else too, and that _that_ person had been a fool, not Jackson. But - but Jinyoung’s face is carefully blank. Jackson breathes out, nods to himself. He’s done the right thing. He won’t make Jinyoung be the bad guy, he won’t force Jinyoung to take responsibility for him anymore. Jackson - Jackson can break his own heart, thank you very much.

With another bow, quick and awkward, Jackson turns around, quickly slinking away. As he does, he misses the way Jinyoung suddenly leans against the door-frame, as though falling against it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .... Yeah. So. What about them Yankees, huh?
> 
> This was HARD. This was SO hard to write. I was shifting things around the entire time, because I didn't wanna do so many scenes, but I also... like, this was the way that felt RIGHT, you know?
> 
> i don't wanna sound like a broken record, but the beautiful comments that has been left on this fic really got me through writing this difficult chapter. work has been a LOT lately, and the comments really helped to like.. make the writing time matter, you know? so please, if you like this, leave me a line or something, it makes my entire day.
> 
> [I made a twitter!](https://twitter.com/Syster19) it's pretty empty so far but hey, if you want to fall apart with me about got7 on a daily basis, get fic updates and also weird little tidbits about my writing. that's probably gonna be the place. i'm still figuring out how to like... post stuff.


	6. Maybe the real treasure was the revelations we had along the way?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world, unfairly, does not stop spinning when you've had your heart broken. So Jackson does the only thing you can do. He dusts himself off and keeps going.
> 
> There's friendship, revelations and a big, grand, final stage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this work is unbeta'd. and you know what? i'm proud of it.

When Jackson wakes up the next morning, he wakes up to one of the cruelest truths of the world. No matter how broken your heart is, or how shattered your world has been, the rest of the world just... keeps going.

It’s honestly quite rude, but the world does not seem to care about broken hearts and foolish expectations, instead it just keeps spinning, keeps going its merry-go-round around the sun. Jackson knows he’s being dramatic. He doesn’t _care_ , thank you very much. The long and short of it, however, is simple: when Jackson wakes up the next morning, time has _not_ stopped, he still has a lecture to go to and he already has three messages from his stoner manager at the café asking Jackson to take his closing shift.

So even though Jackson’s heart lies bleeding and lead-heavy in his chest, there is nothing else to do but... get up, wash his face, stare at himself in the mirror for long enough so that it’s contemplative and not vanity, and go out to face the music.

Mark is already up, which means that he has an early lecture, which in turn means that Jackson should tread a bit carefully unless he wants a repeat of the time Mark threw their television out the window. Mark looks up, face impassive, but with the tell-tale pinch between his eyebrows that tells Jackson everything he needs to know.

When Jackson makes a truly laughable attempt at his usual sunny morning demeanor, Mark’s brow furrows. Jackson quickly hides his face behind the refrigerator door because Mark’s furrowed brows have brought stronger men than Jackson into honest confession.

However, since their refrigerator has a little beeper that goes off whenever its door has been open too long, Jackson’s hiding sadly has a fast-approaching deadline. He tries to take the time to gather himself because he’s not... he’s not sure he wants to talk about it yet.

When he emerges from the refrigerator, just in time to close the door on the first beep, Mark has looked up from his soggy, neglected bowl of cereal. He is looking Jackson over, carefully. His eyes narrow minutely. Jackson flinches as though struck.

“Don’t look like that! Nothing’s wrong!” Jackson quickly says, smiling broadly, rubbing his cheeks to bring back some warmth into them, “See!” He points to himself, still grinning, stepping forward to the kitchen island where Mark is sitting.

Mark just looks at him. After a second too long, he raises an eyebrow and Jackson groans.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jackson sighs, dropping the smile, slipping into the down-turned frown that seems to have been permanently fixed onto his face since the last, trembling smile he’d managed to send Jinyoung’s way.

The silence stretches between them. Jackson pointedly does not look at Mark and his expressive eyebrows. It doesn’t matter. Jackson can _feel_ the concerned twist of Mark’s mouth in the air.

“Please, Mark,” Jackson says, in the end, and to his horror, he feels the corner of his eyes prickling, “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

After another quiet moment, Jackson feels a hand enveloping his, a gentle thumb stroking over the back of his hand. Jackson blinks, looks up, and meets Mark’s tired, warm gaze.

“It didn’t work out,” Jackson murmurs, swallowing around the entire story, the humiliation he still wants to keep close and hidden away, “I - I fucked up.”

Mark’s face softens, a slight downturn to his left eyebrow.

“I was too much,” Jackson says, quieting for a moment before breaking out into a bark of broken laughter that doesn’t sound very fun at all, “You can’t be surprised, Mark-hyung! Remember when we started hanging out? I basically held you hostage until you stopped avoiding me,” Jackson swallows, looking down, “Turns out that doesn’t work every time,” He cracks a small smile, looking up at Mark, “Who knew?”

Mark’s hand is a warm and steady presence. Jackson is feeling a lot of things about that hand right now. He’s about to start crying because of it. Well, that and a few other factors, but the fact still stands that he’s feeling pretty wet around the eyes because of a hand. Jackson sniffles, once, and then he is enveloped in a hug. Jackson blinks a couple of times, before -

Jackson knows that he’s an ugly fucking crier. He _hates_ crying. But... he’s a tactile person, okay? He - he responds to touch. Out of his two warring instincts, one that warns him of ugly crying, and the other one that melts into Mark’s embrace with tears prickling at the corner of his eyes, one is the clear winner. Mark pats his back, and Jackson burrows his head in Mark’s bony shoulder. That little pat, and Mark’s soft breath in his ear, is what sets him off in the end.

In revenge for making him cry, he wipes snot off on Mark’s shirt. That’ll teach him.

“I’m happy you kept trying, you know,” Mark murmurs, his voice a slight staccato as it usually is when he’s talking a bit earlier than he actually wants to, “In the beginning.”

“I know,” Jackson snivels, curling around Mark’s warm, slight, body, “I know that.”

“I could tell you that,” Mark pats the back of Jackson’s head, clearing his throat, “More often.”’

They share a couple of moments of silence until Jackson’s sniffles recede. The thing about a broken heart is that the world doesn’t stop spinning, even though it feels like it should. Which is unfair, and kind of cruel, but that’s just the law of space. Gravity? Whatever. One natural law or another. But... a good friend can help it slow down a bit. Make it easier to stay upright when you want to stumble.

Jackson cleans his eyes off on Mark’s t-shirt, and Mark doesn’t even flinch. When Jackson smiles this time, it’s small, smaller than usual, but it’s real, “If you’d like,” Jackson purses his lips, looks to the side, smiling once again before pressing a light kiss to Mark’s forehead, “But it’s okay if you don’t.”

Mark nods, curls his hand around Jackson’s, and doesn’t let go.

\--

About a week later, Jackson is wiping away some vomit on the floor, whistling slightly. One of the kids at fencing practice had gotten sick, and since the fencing club doesn’t really have the money to hire cleaners more than once a week, Jackson’s the one to clean it up. He doesn’t mind. Eun-ah had cried for almost five minutes after it happened and her parents had been so apologetic. Jackson would rather chew off his own arm than make little Eun-ah believe that her existence burdened him in any way, shape, or form, even if it meant cleaning up vomit with a smile.

“You are being way too happy for someone who’s cleaning up vomit,” Bambam drawls from the other side of the room, where he’s arranging all the little plastic swords in their holders. He’s dressed like a cross between a high-street fashion shoot and a mannequin from the pawn-shop the next corner over, “Especially since you’ve been walking around all week as though someone pissed in your shoes.”

“Well, it’s the kids,” Jackson smiles, “They always cheer me up.”

“I swear, one day we’ll wake up and you’ll be wanted for having kidnapped the lot of them,” Bambam says, rolling his eyes, as though he hadn’t let Bou-ah borrow his Gucci-sunglasses just twenty minutes before, “Not that you’d actually have to kidnap them. You could probably just clap your hands and they’d follow you, like little ducklings.”

“I do love ducks,” Jackson sighs, leaning to rest a bit against the mop, smiling as he looks at Bambam, “Thanks for keeping me company, Bam.”

Bambam looks away, muttering under his breath, but then he clears his throat, looking up, “Yeah. Sure. You’re welcome.”

They continue working in silence, but Jackson being Jackson, and Bambam being Bambam, that doesn’t last for long. As Jackson is putting away the mop, he sighs.

“So, Grindr? Is that, like, a thing?”

Bambam groans, looking over at him.

“Hyung, I do not want to have this conversation with you.”

“Tinder? Is that better?” Jackson frowns while Bambam quietly looks up at the ceiling.

“Once more, and I can not stress this enough, I _really_ do not want to talk about this with you.”

Jackson rolls his eyes, waving a hand in the air, muttering as he carries the bucket of water to the door to empty it outside, “Oh, you’re right, why am I talking to you about it? You and Yugyeom have been more or less exclusive for like a year, why would you know anything about it?”

Bambam seems to stumble over the length of his own legs, sputtering as he rights himself, dusting off nothing from the fabric of his overly expensive turtle-neck and two-dollar jeans, “Ha, very funny, me and Yugyeom aren’t _anything_ -”

Jackson just rolls his eyes, feeling stingy for no reason at all. His good mood isn’t completely gone, because little children swinging bright blue training-sabers is a pretty good mood-lifter, but still... He started the conversation, and yet it just... makes him feel miserable. He and Jinyoung weren’t even _dating_ , so why does it feel like he’s standing in front of some invisible _wall_ , trying to get out on the market again. He frowns, shrugs, and interjects Bambam’s hurried words with a snippy, “Yeah, yeah, I get it, we’re still not talking about it.”

There is silence. This time, it’s heavier. He and Bambam don’t look at each other, and the weight feels unnatural between them. He and Bambam are always open, even when it’s to their detriment. Jackson’s good mood officially tanks, because not only did he fuck up with Jinyoung, now he’s being an ass to Bambam, who didn’t even _do_ anything.

Jackson shoves the door closed a bit harder than necessary, glaring at it. Fuck this door. Fuck dating. Fuck dating men, and in _particular_ , fuck Park Jinyo -

“... I’m sorry that it didn’t work out,” Bambam murmurs quietly, shifting his weight, “Between you and Jinyoung-ssi, I mean.”

Whatever anger Jackson feels just simply... rolls off him. He’s not a naturally angry person, leaning more towards sullenness than anything else, so letting it wash off him, lessening the tension in his shoulders, goes quick. He swallows, looks over at Bambam, who’s looking a bit stiff, as though he is careening towards a topic he finds endlessly awkward. The sight makes Jackson smile, and his voice is soft and tired when he answers, “Yeah. Me too.”

In two strides with his ridiculously long legs, Bambam wraps Jackson up in a hug, folding himself up a bit awkwardly, tucking his head against Jackson’s chest. It’s been a long time since Jackson was taller than Bambam, or even broader, but for the first time in a _while_ , Bambam lets Jackson pet his hair and fuss, just a little bit.

“If you tell someone about this I’ll tell them about the time you cried to Bambi 2,” Bambam mutters.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jackson murmurs right back, tugging Bambam closer, nestling his nose into Bambam’s soft, dyed hair.

\--

Yugyeom’s house is like a picturesque stylized version of a good, Korean home. Yugyeom’s family is sweet, Yugyeom’s brother is _fantastic_ (Jackson is not allowed more than twenty minutes of Euigyeom time, which should be considered oppression, but sure) and their entire home is just awash in... _warmth_. Jackson likes being here when he feels homesick. Yugyeom likes _having_ him here when Jackson feels homesick.

Right now, Jackson is sitting in the kitchen, watching Yugyeom cook. He’s meticulous, carefully following the hand-written note left to him by his mother, tongue sticking out when he makes sure that 1 dl is _1_ _exact dl_ and not 1.1 dl or 0.9 dl. It’s very sweet.

Jackson wonders if Jinyoung has someone making _him_ food. The thought hits him out of nowhere, born out of idle thoughts and the general feeling of _off-ness_ that homesickness usually brings. Jackson furrows his brow, wondering if the thought is born out of concern or jealousy. And as such, like poking a bruise still healing, Jackson prods at it.

Maybe Jinyoung already has someone else over. They haven’t seen each other for three weeks, it’s not - it’s not out of the realm of possibility. He thinks about Jinyoung watching a nameless, beautiful person cook, smiling softly. Something hot and searing red rises in his throat, but he _still_ -

He thinks about Jinyoung kissing someone on the couch, his hands on their waist, his warm eyes disappearing into his lovely little wrinkles. He thinks about Jinyoung calling them _beautiful_.

Jealousy bursts through him like fire, _envy_ soaring into his blood. He’s not sure which one he feels the most, all he knows is that - all he knows is that he’s so _pissed_ at himself for thinking about it. He _never_ had any claim on Jinyoung. _Of course_ Jinyoung can sleep with someone else. Jinyoung _should_ sleep with someone else. So should Jackson, honestly. It’s not really Jinyoung’s fault that Jackson is still _hung up_ -

“You’re going to break the glass, hyung,” Yugyeom says mildly, smiling softly, his gaze _awfully_ understanding. He’s exuding so much empathy Jackson can basically taste it in the air. Jackson unclenches his hand, smiling a bit sheepishly.

“Sorry,” Jackson mutters. Yugyeom hums, sending him a look over his shoulder, dutifully stirring the pot of stew.

“You okay?” Yugyeom sounds so quietly inoffensive that his words could’ve just as well been a breath. Yugyeom is hard to lie too, because of that.

After a moment of silence, carefully tracing patterns in the condensation of his glass, Jackson answers, “No,” He sighs, leaning forward, placing his head in his hands, “No, I’m not.”

“You want to talk about it?” Yugyeom nods to himself, apparently pleased with the stirring he’s been doing, tapping the wooden spoon against the side of the pot, carefully placing it on the pot’s ears, lowering the heat. He wipes his hands on his apron as he turns around.

“No,” Jackson says, but then he quietly re-figures the question, because Yugyeom is asking with such quiet non-judgment that he... wants to be the most honest he can be. Even if it’s more honest than he’s currently capable of being even to himself.

”What good would it do? Talking about it?” Jackson says, at last, quietly. Because that’s the thing, isn’t it? What is there to talk about? Jackson was an _idiot_. He doesn’t know what else there is to say, “I just... I... I put too many expectations on him, which was just _unfair,_ you know? He didn’t ask for it and he didn’t ask for my feelings,” Jackson runs his hands through his hair, “I should’ve... done better. Been better.”

“Well, that happens, doesn’t it?” Yugyeom says, taking Jackson’s glass to refill it with fresh, cold water. It’s such a small, thoughtful gesture. It’s such a _Yugyeom_ thing to do, “It’s okay to want more, and it’s okay to want to be loved. You didn’t do anything wrong, falling in love.”

Jackson snorts, but then he swallows around the sound, dampens it, “It doesn’t feel okay,” Jackson mutters, “It just feels like I fucked up real bad.”

“Well,” Yugyeom shrugs, leaning back against the counter, all long lines and wavy, soft hair, full mouth curled into a small smile, “You’re wrong about that, sadly.”

“Oh, I’m wrong, am I?” Jackson grins, even though it’s a bit of a wobbly one, raising an eyebrow, “Are you telling me I’m not a terrible fuck-up of a person?”

“You’re not,” Yugyeom agrees easily, with the kind of surety that sometimes takes Jackson by surprise. He’s not entirely sure he’s earned that kind of confidence, “And sure, you did fuck up a bit, but that’s okay,” he turns to the stove, takes the prepared plate, spoons up a generous helping of stew, “We love you anyway.”

He puts the plate in front of Jackson, who just looks at it with far more emotions than anyone should ever look at a plate of food. Jackson swallows, opens his mouth, closes it again, before finally opening it to speak.

“I don’t feel like I deserve it,” Jackson blinks, crooking a half-smile onto his face, “I feel like you’ll regret it.”

“Well, good thing it’s not for you to decide then,” Yugyeom shrugs, smiling so broadly his eyes disappear into his long, wavy bangs.

Jackson feels so _warm_. He feels so _loved_. He’s not sure what to do with all of it.

“Thanks, Gyeomie,” Jackson says in the end, taking a bite of the stew. It’s not very good, because Yugyeom’s really not that great of a chef, but it’s _fantastic_ nonetheless. The two of them eat in silence, for a while, until Jackson clears his throat, “So,” He starts, raising an eyebrow at Yugyeom who looks up at him curiously, “Since I was just embarrassingly honest, does this mean that you and I can finally talk about whatever is going on between you and Bambam?”

A beat, and then Yugyeom flushes stark red, choking on the spoonful of food in his mouth and Jackson breaks into high peals of laughter, only laughing harder when Yugyeom kicks his shins underneath the table. Jackson feels light, and bright, and just a little bit better.

\--

Jackson feels a little bit like a deer in the sight of a hunter. Jaebeom has a _really_ intense glare and right now, its entire impressive power is focused _right_ on Jackson. On the other side of the table, across from Jaebeom, sits Youngjae, smiling mildly, seemingly unbothered by the murderous aura surrounding his table-mate.

“So... You two know each other then, I take it?” Jackson says, holding his tray like a shield. Jaebeom is looking particularly squinty today, coupled with the murderous aura, and Jackson kind of wants to keep his organs inside his body. The tray should at least slow him down a bit, giving Jackson some time to flee, if he needs to.

“Yes,” Youngjae agrees easily, smiling broadly, “From work.”

“Yeah,” Jaebeom mutters, “From work.”

“And you brought him _here_ , of all places,” Jackson says, trying to communicate _that’s the roommate and best friend of the sex-tutor i managed to foolishly fall in love with_ with his eyebrows. Youngjae just continues smiling, not even batting an eyelid.

“Well yes, you have the best coffee, after all,” Youngjae hums, looking over at Jaebeom, “They do a very good latte.”

“We really don’t, there’s a place that’s better down the street,” Jackson smiles his best retail-smile, “If you want, I’ll pull it up on maps -”

Jackson is interrupted by Youngjae’s soft gasp, “Oh, dear, look at the time,” Youngjae says, looking down at the wristwatch on his arm, a clock that Jackson never has seen him wear before, “I’m sorry, hyung, I have a phone call I simply _must_ make. Excuse me for a moment?” Youngjae turns to Jackson, “Keep him company for a while, would you, Jackson-hyung?” His smile is blinding. Jackson feels a bit like he’s staring into the sun. He also feels a bit like he’s staring into the maw of a lion. Funny how those two feelings somehow can co-exist.

“Uh -” Jackson answers eloquently.

“We can just reschedule -” Jaebeom tries, but Youngjae has already walked away, phone raised to his ear.

The silence is _deafening_. There are not even enough customers for Jackson to pretend he has to leave. His manager is even here and _not_ pretending to be sick, for once, so he can’t use that as an excuse either. Shit.

Jaebeom is great at silence, naturally stoic as he is. Jackson is _not_ good at silence. After a minute or so of awkward, heavy silence, Jackson clears his throat,

“So, uh, how -”

“Are you really just going to ask how Jinyoung is doing?” The words burst out of Jaebeom in a frantic, uncharacteristic manner, “ _Really_? How do you _think_ he’s doing?” Jaebeom narrows his eyes, his jaw clenching forward. Jackson just blinks.

“What? No, I was... gonna do my job, and ask you if you wanted something to drink?” Jackson frowns, “What do you mean, how do I think he’s doing?” Jackson pauses, flicking his eyes over Jaebeom and his angry jaw, “Fine? Probably? I don’t know.”

“Fine?” Jaebeom says, leaning forward. Jackson raises an eyebrow, unimpressed, putting the tray underneath his arm. Now that’s just _posturing_. Jackson isn’t scared of _posturing_ , “You broke his heart!”

The world, which does not stop nor pause for a broken heart, does kind of seem to screech to a halt for _that_ , apparently. _What_.

“What,” Jackson exclaims flatly, “Uh,” he pauses, “ _What?_ ”

“You used him!” Jaebeom says, running a hand through his hair, making it stand straight up, making Jaebeom look kind of... goofy. Jackson has to stop himself from reaching out and smoothing it down. Not the _time_ , Jackson, “You picked him up, used him for sex, and then you _dump_ him the moment it starts turning serious?“

“It was turning serious?” Jackson says, his voice small and confused, “I - I broke his heart?” Jackson is, honestly, at a loss for words. The world is suddenly off-kilter, “What are you talking about?”

Jaebeom narrows his eyes, squinting distrustfully, and Jackson flares out his hands, feeling at a loss for exactly what to say.

“He said he only wanted casual,” Jackson answers, not even sounding defensive, just a bit lost, “He - he said he didn’t do relationships?”

Jaebeom stares at him, perplexed, and then something like understanding dawns on his face. It’s a funny development of emotions to watch, really, because Jaebeom looks as though he’s having a revelation despite not wanting to have one.

“He said that?” Jaebeom says, at last, the words coming out of his mouth slowly.

“Yeah, he did. And well, I grew...” Jackson thinks about the right word, but his mind is kind of occupied with something else at the moment, and so he settles for an imperfect one, “Attached? God, that makes me sound like a dog... Or makes him sound like a dog. It makes ONE of us sound like a dog. Both?” Jackson quiets, frowning down at his fingers, “It - it felt wrong. To keep going, hoping for something he didn’t want to give me. And -” Jackson remembers the phone-call, the half-remembered words of _too much_ and _i have to end it_ , “It didn’t feel fair,” he finishes lamely.

Another pause for silence. This time, instead of stopping outright, time just seems to crawl. In the end, Jaebeom sighs, a bone-deep, weary sigh that ages him, makes him feel old.

“Okay. Okay. Look,” Jaebeom holds up a hand, “Wait. I am not good -” Jaebeom groans, “Okay, first of all, I can not stress enough how much these kinds of things -” He motions between himself and Jackson, which doesn’t really... mean anything, but okay, “- are outside my purview.”

Another pause. Jaebeom has a hand placed against his forehead, and his gaze is slightly hollow as he seems to... talk to himself? Jackson definitely hears Jinyoung’s name. He also hears some swear words not even he knows, which is... interesting. Jaebeom sighs, placing his hands together, palm to palm putting two fingers against his bottom lip. He closes his eyes, sighs another world-weary sigh, and opens his eyes.

“Jackson. He was full of shit.”

“What?” Jackson squeaks.

“He only _did_ casual. Past tense. That changed when he met you,” Jaebeom looks as though it is physically paining him to be patient.

“It did?” Jackson curls his fingers over his tray, holding it over his heart, as though it will somehow protect it from... something. It beats, fluttery and frantic, in his chest.

“You... didn’t notice?” Jaebeom asks, carefully, ”Like, at all?”

“I - what?” Jackson wishes he could move past one or two-word answers, but let’s cut him some slack. Jaebeom presses his fingers against his temples

“I really fucking wish I could mock you for this, but the only thing sadder than you not knowing that he loved you, is _he_ not knowing that he loved you, and he and I had _that_ conversation about two months after he _actually_ started to like you,” Jaebeom punctuates each word with a swing of his hands. Jackson follows the movement with wide eyes, “He let you stay over! He never asks people to stay over! He has a whole _routine_ for getting people out within an hour without making them feel bad! He _perfected_ it.” Jaebeom’s movements grow jerkier, and he’s looking at Jackson as though this should somehow reveal something, “He ate egg-yolk, because you cooked it. He _hates_ yolk!”

Jackson stares at him, blinking once, and then, because it seems like Jaebeom is waiting for an answer, he speaks, “He hates egg-yolk?”

“That’s what you take from this?” Jaebeom sighs.

“Well, it’s kinda weird? Like, why? Doesn’t he see it as food or something? Does he throw the entire yolk away _every_ time he eats an egg?! He is wasting food! Why _wouldn’t_ you eat the entire egg -”

“Jackson!” Jaebeom exclaims, looking exasperated, ”Did you hear me? He loves you.”

“Yeah, no, I heard that. I heard you the first time,” Jackson says, his voice feeling detached from his own body, “Yeah. I -”

Youngjae comes back, smiling apologetically, hurriedly going back to his seat, “I’m really sorry about that. So, how are we doing? Have you ordered?” He looks at Jaebeom, who is still looking at Jackson, “I’d take a latte please, hyung. Chai, if you have it. You really should try their latte, Jaebeom-hyung, it’s _quite_ good.”

The world, suddenly, lurches back into movement. Jackson has no idea what’s happening. He just knows _one_ thing -

“I have to go,” Jackson says, suddenly, slamming his tray down on the table, “I - I have to go -” He swears as he works on the knot on his apron, “ _Fuck_!”

“He’s at rehearsal,” Youngjae smiles, not looking surprised at all, moving to help Jackson untangle his apron, “Back at the old university building, I’ll send you the address.”

Jackson nods, breathless, hopeful, _scared_.

“Thanks!” He kisses Youngjae’s cheek and Youngjae giggles. Jackson also, dart-quick, presses a kiss to Jaebeom’s cheek, and Jaebeom looks like he was force-fed his own tongue. In one fluid movement, he turns to his manager, who is standing by the till, staring at him, “I’m so, _so_ sick, Minho-ssi. I need to take the rest of the day off,” Jackson says, his entire body kind of.. trembling, “Okay?”

Minho opens his mouth to say something, but Jackson cuts through, already clocking out with quick fingers on the digital till, “Thanks, Minho-nim! I’ll owe you one. Two chai lattes for table seven, by the way.”

And with that, he opens the door, shrugging into his jacket, stepping into fresh air. Spring is far away, but somehow, the air feels a bit lighter. So Jackson takes a deep breath and starts to run.

\--

“Who are you?” the man at the door of the University’s drama theatre looks incredibly unimpressed. He’s middle-aged, and clearly just there because he’s paid to be there. The building itself is old and venerable as only really old university buildings can be. The guard has cracked the door open just enough so that he can squint suspiciously at Jackson.

Jackson who is stomping his feet, moving a bit frantically, “Oh, yeah, uh, I’m Jinyoungie’s - wait - I’m Park Jinyoung’s ... well ... uh... look, honestly, it’s a long story. He was my tutor, of sorts, in sex? Yeah, crazy, I know, but in my defense, I’d been having a really bad week -” Jackson babbles, and the man kind of stares at him, clearly not even attempting to follow whatever ramble _that_ was.

“No entry card, no entry. You can’t come in,” the man says, decisively, starting to pull the door shut. Jackson quickly grabs hold of the door, places his foot so that it can’t be shut completely.

“It’s for _love_ , sir. _Please_ ,” Jackson says, breathlessly, his eyes big and large and alarmingly earnest. The man blinks at him, narrowing his eyes, flicking his eyes over Jackson’s frame, clearly deciding if he can be trusted or not. In the end, he sighs, letting go of the door, which makes it swing open.

“Make it quick,” the man sighs, rubbing a hand over his eyes, “And don’t mess anything up. We’ve had a lot of problems with break-ins lately, and this is an old building, so -”

“Thank you, sir!” Jackson stumbles in through the door, tripping on his own feet, quickly righting himself to bound down the corridor, “I’ll be in and out before anyone even notices me!”

He finds the rehearsal space soon enough. It’s an amphitheater, old and respectable in the way such buildings often are. The crimson-red seats stretch in a half-moon circle up from the stage, which is in the middle. _Amateur-theatre_ , Jinyoung had said. _Amateur-theatre_ didn’t have stages like these.

Even from the other side of the theatre, right at the top of the lines of seats, Jackson can see, or _feel_ , Jinyoung (as he said, the man has an aura). He has to squint a bit to see details, Jackson’s eyesight has never been very good, but like -

There he is.

Jinyoung looks fantastic. He looks _ethereal_. Jackson sometimes wondered if he’d just imagined Jinyoung’s handsomeness, or that he was kinda cock-drunk (he looked it up, it’s a real condition, and the sex was really _very_ good) into just thinking that Jinyoung is the most handsome man on earth, but oh -

On stage? Surrounded by stage-lights, hand to his heart, dressed in a weird frilly shirt with long-ruffled sleeves? Jinyoung looks _remarkable_.

He’s doing the monologue, the one Jackson helped him practice once, and the memory of the two of them, their legs tangled in the sheets, Jinyoung murmuring a monologue about honor, love and war into Jackson’s ear melds together with this one, Jinyoung, alone on the stage.

 _Did you love me then?_ Jackson thinks, daring to breach the thought, to brush against it, just slightly. His breath catches in his throat, and he carefully imagines the second thought into being, the only one that can follow it, the only one that is even more frightening, _Do you love me now?_

Jackson falters.

But then, Jackson takes a breath and _looks_. Dares to hope, dares to _see_.

Jinyoung on stage looks different. He is ethereal, and handsome, and remarkable. His voice is low and powerful when he speaks, his words are sure and clear. But he’s - he’s not _happy._ There is a tension to his shoulders, a note of strain to his words. He seems... dimmer. A bit lesser.

 _He missed me_ , Jackson thinks, _he misses me still,_ he continues, the thought unbidden but most welcome. _Oh._

“Jinyoungie!” Jackson bursts out, _very_ loudly, not with his indoor voice at all, and then he claps his hands over his mouth. _Oh, shit_.

Jinyoung’s head snaps towards the sound whip-fast, looking around, looking up the lines and lines of seats. On his face, there is something desperate playing in the turn-on his head, the hold of his hands. Okay, then.

“Jinyoungie!” Jackson shouts again, deliberately this time, putting both of his hands on the back of a seat, leaning over it to make his voice carry a bit longer, “Jinyoungie! Over here!” Jackson waves, as though there is some _other_ maniac at the rehearsal screaming Jinyoung’s name and Jinyoung needs help to differentiate between them.

Jinyoung looks towards him, and Jackson can’t _see_ it, because he’s pretty far away, but he _knows_ that Jinyoung does one of his cat-blinks, the long and slow kind that crinkles his eyes. Jackson waves again and Jinyoung, slowly, tentatively, raises one hand to wave back.

“Cut!” rings out from the front row, someone carrying a rolled-up manuscript rising up to glare at whatever is going on in the wings, “What the hell is going on, Park? We need to -”

“I’m _shit_ at casual, Jinyoungie!” Jackson interrupts, loudly, starting to climb over the seats to get closer, “Like, _really_ bad at it. It’s honestly almost funny how bad I am at casual, except that it made both of us really sad, which isn’t great, but you know, we’ll laugh about it, later -” He manages to get to the middle, where there is an actual ramp down to the stage, and he stumbles out onto it, tripping over the last seat in his way. He dusts himself off, smiles, and bounds down towards the stage.

“Excuse me,” the man with the manuscript tries to step in front of him, “But we’re in rehearsal, you can’t just -”

“I’m really sorry but this is, like, super important,” Jackson says gravely, putting both hands on the director's shoulders, moving him out of the way so that he can climb up on stage, “Jinyoungie, what I mean is -” He curses his short legs, because he doesn’t manage to get up the first time, but the second one goes better. He _oofs_ as he heaves himself up on stage, rolling onto his back, he breathes out, and continues, still lying on his back “ - I do not do casual. I should’ve said that, somewhere along the line.”

“Jackson,” Jinyoung says, voice soft and like, a bit baffled, but honestly, who can blame him. Jackson looks up from where he’s lying on the stage floor, looking at Jinyoung upside down. Jackson smiles, because _oh, hi, there you are, i missed you_ , would ruin the flow of the speech he’s doing, so the smile will just have to do for a while. Jinyoung’s mouth opens, just a little bit, in response.

Jackson groans as he gets up, straightening out his clothes, “And because I don’t do casual, I’m really bad at like... knowing what casual means? I mean, I thought maybe it was like, _normal_ , all the things you did, for something that’s casual, so I didn’t... I didn’t get it.”

“Oh,” Jinyoung looks away, clearing his throat, face splotching into color, just a bit, which unfairly doesn’t make him less handsome, just more adorable, “Uh, yeah. Some of those things were... not standard. For, uh, casual.”

“Well, yes, I get that _now_ , and looking back it might’ve been kind of obvious...” Jackson tapers off, before spreading out his arms, bursting into life again, “And maybe I would have gotten there on my own! But _then_ I overheard you talking on the phone! And, like, I still don’t know what that was about, but I think I might’ve misunderstood it? I think...” He pauses briefly, “I _hope_ I misunderstood it, but the thing is - I thought you were going to end it. I thought you _wanted_ to end it, but didn’t know how.”

Jinyoung looks a bit lost, his brow furrowing as he struggles to keep up. At the mention of the phone-call, Jinyoung blinks, “A phone-call?” There seems to dawn some kind of understanding on his face, and he steps forward, “Jackson, _when?_ ”

Jackson places a hand over Jinyoung’s mouth, “Ssh, later, okay? I need to say this.” Jackson’s throat feels dry, but he’s been holding these things in what seems like _forever_ , ”And since you didn’t seem to know how, I’d think I’d do it. Break us up, I mean? Except not break up, really, because we weren’t dating. Or I thought we weren’t dating. But, uh, to be honest, I think... I think we might’ve been dating, just a little bit?”

Jinyoung’s hand is warm and soft as it takes hold of the hand on his mouth, slowly taking it down, twining their fingers together, “Yeah,” Jinyoung smiles, his eyes warm and gentle, “Yeah, we might’ve been dating, just a bit.”

“Well, I didn’t know that. But I know that now. And that means we should’ve talked after I heard the phone call. But we didn’t. So, I’m here now. To talk. Because I think I’m in love with you,” Jackson swallows holding tighter onto Jinyoung’s hand, because Jinyoung is the steadiest person he’s ever known, and he _needs_ that even as he is basically confessing _to_ Jinyoung, “I think I’ve been in love with you for a really long time,” Jackson licks his lips, his smile a bit wobbly, “Which is dramatic, and a bit too much, but - I - I feel like you should know that, by now. That I’m too much.”

Jinyoung raises the hand that isn’t holding his, tucking the permanently stray lock of Jackson’s bangs behind his ears, voice very soft as he speaks.

“Not too much in a bad way. Never too much in a bad way.” He cups Jackson’s cheek, stepping closer, and he _does_ look tired, as though he hasn’t slept well. Jackson rubs a hand over his eyes, giving a short burst of laughter.

“Oh, c’mon, sometimes in a bad -”

“No. _Never_ in a bad way,” Jinyoung interjects, shaking his head, pulling Jackson closer by their intertwined hands, his voice firm.

“... Oh.” Jackson says, after a pause, “Oh, okay.”

Jinyoung’s hand trembles as he places one on Jackson’s cheek, and Jackson leans into the touch, eyes fluttering half-shut, his voice a soft murmur as he speaks, “I should’ve told you that. I should’ve told you a lot of things.” He leans his head forward, bumping his forehead against Jackson’s. Jackson’s heart swells and burns with almost frightening intensity, as though the lead-heavy sorrow from the last month somehow made it burn all the brighter.

He speaks around his burning heart, around the ache of tears rising in his throat, “Well, we’ll work on communication, then.”

“We will?” Jinyoung exhales, and it sounds a bit wet, so Jackson brings his hand up, places it over the hand that’s on his cheek, curls it around Jinyoung’s fingers.

“Yes, because I am here to ask you, Park Jinyoung, something,” Jackson pauses, for dramatic effect and because - _nerves_. He clears his throat, ”Would you want to grab a coffee sometime?” he nods, proud of himself, but then hurriedly adds, “As a date!”

Jinyoung snorts, and then breaks into peeling, braying laughter, the dorky one, the _real one_. Jinyoung’s entire body turns towards Jackson, as though _Jackson_ is the sun, curling in around him, stepping closer. Jackson hears the mirth, the joy, and decides that this, _this,_ is what he wants to do for the rest of his life. Make Jinyoung laugh and then hear it in the air around him, because there is no sweeter sound.

“I’d like that, Seunie,“ Jinyoung says, the nickname rolling off his tongue as though he has been thinking about it a lot, as though he has been wanting to say it for a while, “Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

Jackson’s vision gets a bit blurry, and the tears that have been _right there_ the entire time, hidden just underneath the surface, stuck in his throat and in the corner of his eyes, run over. But Jackson has never smiled so wide in his entire life. Jinyoung just looks at him, just _looks_ , and it’s - _oh_ \- it’s -

Jackson has seen that look before. He’s _seen_ it before, the night they failed to have sex, the night Jinyoung called him beautiful, and - and a hundred other little times, spread out through the months they’ve known each other. He’s seen the warmth, the awe, the _joy_. He just didn’t _recognize_ it. But now he does.

“Great,” Jackson smiles, hiccoughing through the roll of tears falling down his cheeks, “Love that for us.”

“Love that for us,” Jinyoung murmurs in agreement, his voice thick, and then he bends his head slightly, captures Jackson’s lips with his, swallowing Jackson’s tears, and joy, and _mess_ without hesitation.

In the background, there is a shuffle, a tentative voice murmuring, “Uh, director, shouldn’t we, like, stop them, or something?”

The director, voice decidedly stuffy, slaps the roll of paper down on whoever spoke, “No, can’t you see? This is _important_.”

Jackson and Jinyoung part, foreheads still pressed together, smiling into each other's shared breath. After a moment, Jackson giggles, grabs Jinyoung by the waist, tips him over into a dip, and Jinyoung laughs again, bright and relieved and cheerful, and Jackson bends to kiss each sweet sound of mirth from his lips.

\--

_**Coda** _

Two weeks later

“I thought we were taking it slow,” Jinyoung gasps as Jackson shoves him against the wall, kicking the door shut with his foot. Jinyoung groans as Jackson licks into his mouth, nips Jinyoung’s full bottom lip with his teeth, “Fuck, Seun-ah -”

“It’s been two weeks. I’m in my twenties. Time is relative, so it’s basically been an eternity,” Jackson nips at Jinyoung’s jaw, shoving his hands underneath Jinyoung’s shirt, sliding his hands over Jinyoung’s wonderful, soft skin and fantastic, _lovely_ muscles, “Especially since you’ve been wearing _jeans_.”

“My chinos are in the wash,” Jinyoung murmurs, sounding way too innocent. Jackson raises an eyebrow at him.

“All five identical pairs?” Jackson snaps his teeth playfully, scratches his nails “Not only a _fiend_ , but a _liar_ too, hm?”

Jinyoung laughs brightly and Jackson grins, playfully rubbing his nose against Jinyoung’s jaw, still trailing his fingers over Jinyoung’s skin, right over the hem of his tight fucking Levi’s. Fuck. Jackson feels like he’s on _fire_. He doesn’t know where to _start_. With a soft huff, Jinyoung takes Jackson’s head between his hands, and slows Jackson’s frantic movements down, softens the kisses into a more leisurely pace, and Jackson melts into it, hands curling on Jinyoung’s bare skin.

They part, breathing heavily, and Jackson swallows, “Take me to bed, Jinyoung-sunbaenim,” He murmurs, voice husky and hoarse. But when Jinyoung stiffens up, Jackson winces, “Oh, we can’t joke about it yet?” Jackson kisses Jinyoung’s flushed cheek, humming thoughtfully, “Okay, I’m sorry about that, is _oppa_ better? I feel like oppa could be a thing, for me at least -”

Jinyoung takes Jackson’s lips in a bruising kiss, his lips hot and demanding as he bites Jackson’s lips open, swallowing Jackson’s broken moan before they part, “You ruined that word for me, you know,” Jinyoung says, his voice low and deep, “I work in academia. We call people _sunbaenim_ a lot. It’s been a _problem_.” He says, grinding his hips against Jackson’s, who gasps as Jinyoung’s hardness grinds up against his own.

“Oh,” Jackson gasps, licking his swollen, bruised lips with his tongue, “Oh, well then -” Jackson leans closer, wraps his arms around Jinyoung’s neck, makes his voice breathier because _fuck_ is it hot in here? Where did all the air go? One of the great mysteries of Jinyoung’s apartment, really, “Jinyoung-sunbaenim, please teach me the ways off -” Jackson squeals as Jinyoung just picks him up bridal style, stumbling a bit because Jackson is not _small_ nor _light_ (he’s short, but it’s _all_ muscle), carrying him into the bedroom, and then Jackson shriek with laughter as Jinyoung throws him on the bed.

Jinyoung leans down over Jackson, covering him completely, his elbows on either side of Jackson’s head as he kisses away every bright, hyena-like laugh, Jinyoung’s own smile playing in the corner of his eyes, in the hold of his full, pink lips. Jackson gasps when Jinyoung slides a knee between his legs, gasping straight out as he grinds down, already leaking pre-cum into his boxers.

“Ah, Jinyoung- _oppa,”_ Jackson gasps in Jinyoung’s ear, wrapping both his arms around Jinyoung’s neck, threading both his hands into Jinyoung’s silken, dark hair, sliding their lips together, stopping only to giggle, “Oh, I _do_ like that, oh, let’s make it a thing, let’s -”

“ _Jackson_ -” Jinyoung says, voice low and... carrying a warning of some sort. Oh. Oh, Jinyoung’s going to learn that _reproach_ doesn’t work on him.

“Oppa,” Jackson murmurs, grinding his hips down against Jinyoung’s knee, making himself writhe and gasp, “Oppa, I really want you to fuck me, I’ve missed your cock so, _so_ much,” Jackson slides a hand down Jinyoung’s body, over the half-unbuttoned shirt, over tensing skin and muscle, cupping Jinyoung’s bulge in his hand.

“Fuck,” Jinyoung groans, “Seunie -” Oh, Jackson _loves_ that nickname. He loves the way it sounds in Jinyoung’s mouth, how it trembles from his lips, how it fits into an exhale. He loves the taste of it against his tongue as he kisses it from Jinyoung’s lips, deftly unbuttoning Jinyoung’s jeans. When his fingers touch Jinyoung’s thickening cock, both he and Jinyoung gasp in tandem. It’s - it’s not the easiest thing to do, gliding his fingers around Jinyoung’s cock as the man is still in his goddamn hip-hugging, tight-fitting jeans. It’s more like Jackson just uses his hands as friction, as skin and touch for Jinyoung to jerk off against.

“Seunie -” Jinyoung pants, leaning his head against Jackson’s shoulder, gasping tight and hot, “Ah, fuck, wait -”

Jackson curls his fingers, presses his thumb against the ridge of the cock’s head, and -

Jinyoung comes with a groan, spilling over Jackson’s hand.

Oh.

Jinyoung gasps for breath, and when Jackson blinks down at him, he sees the bright red of Jinyoung’s ears. _Oh_.

“You - from a handjob?” Jackson bites his lip. Jinyoung fucked Jackson through three orgasms once, rock-hard through each one, even as Jackson fell apart on his cock. He’s always had so much _control_.

“Don’t,” Jinyoung groans, folding his arms around Jackson, laying down so that he rests on Jackson’s chest, still refusing to look at him.

This was... one of the tamer things they’ve done, really. Feels big though. Feels monumental, honestly.

Jackson rubs a comforting hand over Jinyoung’s back, and when Jinyoung peeks up from his hiding place against Jackson’s chest, Jackson is smiling, big and tender and _loving_. Jinyoung offers an embarrassed little smile back, and Jackson gave up months ago trying to list his favorite Jinyoung-smiles, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t treasure them all, hoards them in his chest, keeping them close to his heart.

“Want me to -” Jinyoung clears his throat, straightening his back, sitting up, and Jackson mourns the loss of weight and warmth immediately. Jinyoung motions to Jackson and his tented sweatpants, “I can use my fingers or mouth -”

Jackson shakes his head, not really knowing why. His arousal is secondary. His arousal is distant, compared to _this_ , compared to the two of them, in bed, _together_.

“No, it’s okay,” Jackson murmurs, climbing into Jinyoung’s lap, wrapping his arms around Jinyoung’s neck, pressing a kiss against Jinyoung’s cheek, ”I’ll wait. We’ve got time.“

Jinyoung smiles, Jackson feels the flex of it against his lips, hears the gentle little huff as Jinyoung speaks.

“Yeah,” Jinyong agrees, voice warm and endlessly soft, “We’ve got time.”

\---

_(17:42) **Baobei:** Text me your orders, I’m on my way there._

(17:42) i miss you, jinyoungie

_(17:43) **Bammie:** you need to stop, he’s been gone five minutes_

_(17.43) **Baobei:** I miss you too, Seunie._

(17:44) <3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

_(17:45) **Baobei:** <3_

_(17:46) **Bammie:** i hate both of you_

_(17:48) **Gyeomie:** i think it's sweet._

_(17:48) **Angry chin JB:** try living with them. it’s worse._

_(17:49) **Yi-en:** ^_

_(17:51) **Youngjae-ah:** extra fries for me hyung, please and thank you ~_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look at that guys! we made it to the end! what a two weeks this has been, huh?
> 
> i would like to thank everyone that has commented and kept me going. it's been hard, at times, writing this, but it's also been tons and tons of fun. i'd love for you to leave a comment now that it's done too, if you want to, so that i can hoard them to my heart like little treasures of gold.
> 
> this is by no means the end of me and got7. i've got a couple of one-shots in the work, and one more multiple-chapter jinson work fully planned out (it's a fencing variety show au. it'll be fun). see you around guys. it's been a fucking blast!
> 
> [I made a twitter!](https://twitter.com/Syster19). If you want to fall apart with me about got7 on a daily basis, get fic updates and also weird little tidbits about my writing [(like, for example, what DID jinyoung actually say in that phonecall?)](https://twitter.com/Syster19/status/1338873924122259459?s=20) that's probably gonna be the place. do you have any questions about the fic? ask them there, or here in the comments.


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